on; CATALOGUE FREE TO ANY ONE. 




AMES' SERIES OF 

!| STANDARD AND MINOR DRAMA 
il NO. 164. 



3* 



AFTER TEN YEARS; 

OR, 

The Maniac Wife. 



• ST OP CHARACTERS, ENTRANCES, AND EXITS, RREATIVR 1'OSITIONS 
OP THE PERFORMERS ON THE STAGE, DESCRIPTION OF COS- 
TUMES, AND THE WHOLE OF THE STAG E RUSTS I 
I Uf,LY M UtkKD PROM THE 
MOST APPROVED 



PRICE 15 CENTS. 




1 
f 

>} 

I 

31 



s to Amateurs.— Now ready. A book i stiral intonnn 

. in which nil mam 




Ames' Edition of Plays. 



FIFTEEN CENTS EACH UNLESS 



NO. 

164 

1 66 

1 68 

1 69 

129 

132 

12 

30 

2 

75 

80 

136 

39 

124 

78 

15 

05 

31 

21 

43 

123 

73 

20 

125 

100 

89 

8 

98 

113 

86 

14 

160 

22 

84 

145 

161 

49 

72 

19 

42 

60 

152 

14:: 

148 
173 
162 

27 
154 

13 



76 



After Ten Years 7 3 

A Texan Mother-in-Law 4 2 

A Pleasure Trip 7 3 

A Regular Fix ■> 4 

Aar-u-ag-oos 2 1 

Actor and Servant 2 9 

A Capital Match 3 2 

A Day Well Spent 7 5 

A Desperate Game 3 2 

Adrift 6 4 

Alarmingly Suspicious ... 4 3 

A Legal Holiday 5 3 

A Life's Revenge 7 5 

An Afflicted Family 7 5 

An Awful Criminal 3 3 

An Unhappy Pair = 1 1 

An Unwelcome Return... 3 1 

A Pet of the Public 4 2 

A Romantic Attachment.. 3 3 

Arrah de Baugh 7 5 

A Thrilling Item 3 1 

At Last 7 1 

A Ticket of Leave 3 2 

Auld Robin Gray 25c 13 3 

AuroraFloyd 7 3 

Beautv of Lyons 11 2 

Better Half 5 2 

Black Statue 3 2 

Bill Derrick 6 4 

Black vs White 4 2 

Brigands of Calabria 6 1 

Conn ; or, Love's Victoryl 1 3 

Captain Smith 3 3 

Cheek Will Win 3 

Cuff's Luck 2 1 

Dora 5 2 

Der Two Surprises 1 1 

Deuce is in Him 5 1 

Did I Dream it 4 3 

Domestic Felicity I I 

Driven to the Wall 10 3 

Driven from Home 7 4 

Emigrant's Daughter 8 3 

Eh? What Did You Say.. 3 1 

East Lynne 7 6 

Fielding Manor 9 6 

Fetter Lane to Gravesend.. 2 

Fun in a Post Office 4 2 

Give Ale My Wife 3 3 

Hal Hazard, 25c S 3 

How He Did It .*', 2 



No. 

24 

66 
116 

52 
141 

17 
130 
153 

:o.3 

50 
140 

74 
35 
29 

47 

95 

77 

11 

99 

82 

9 

3 

127 

106 

194 

158 

1 63 

49 

1 39 

91 

36 

88 

34 

69 

1 

2:; 

32 

I2S 

149 

90 

61 

37 

44 

81 

150 

1 09 

149 

129 

85 



OTHERWISE MARKED. 

M. F. 

HandvAn.lv 2 

Hans, the Dutch J. P 3 1 

Hash 4 2 

Henry Gra'nden 11 8 

Hidden Treasures 4 2 

Hints on Elocution 

Hints to Amateurs 

Haunted House 2 

How Sister Paxev got Her 

Child Baptized 2 1 

How She has Own Way... 1 3 
How He Popped Quest'n.. I 1 
How to Tame M-in-Law.. 4 2 
How Stout Y'r Getting... 5 2 

Hunter of the Alps 9 4 

In the Wrong Box 3 

In the Wrong Clothes..... 5 3 

Joe's Visit 2 1 

John Smith '5 3 

Jumbo Jum 4 3 

Killing Time 1 1 

Jjady Audlev's Secret 6 4 

Lady of Lyons 12 5 

Lick Skillet Wedding 2 2 

Lodgings for Two 3 

Lost...... 6 2 

Mr. Hudson's Tiger Hunt 1 1 

M iriams Crime 5 2 

Man and Wile 12 7 

Matrimonial Bliss i 1 

Michael Erie.. 8 3 

Miller of Derwent W'tr... 5 2 

Mischievous Nigger 4 2 

Mistletoe Bough 7 3 

Mother's Fool 9 1 

Mr. and .Mrs. Prinze 7 2 

My Heart's in Hisjhl'ds .. 4 3 

My Wife's Relations 4 4 

Musical Darkey 2 

New Years in N. Y 7 6 

No Cure, No Pay 3 1 

Not as Deaf as lie Seems 2 

Not So Bad After All 6 5 

Obedience 1 2 

Old Phil's Birthday 5 2 

Old Pompey 1 1 

On the Sly .1 3 2 

her People's Children.. 3 2 

Our Awful Aunt 4 4 

OurDaughters 8 6 

Outcast's Wife 12 3 



AFTER TEN YEARS 



OR 



THE MANIAC WIFE, 

An Original Romantic Drama, 
IN THREE ACTS, 



BY 



B. W. HOLLEXBECR, If. D. 



With the exits and entrances, positions of the performers on the 

stage, and the whole of the stage business carefully marked, 

from the author's original manuscript. 



— — <>•- ^-i^-<»— . 



Entered according to act of Congress in the year 1885, by 

A. D. AMES, 
in the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, 



«— M -r°rr M — ^> 



ffl 



—CLYDE, OHIO: — • 
A. D. AMES, PUBLISHER, 



\ 






AFTEE TEN YEARS; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 

CHARACTERS. \ <J *? ^ *) 

- ^H7 3?5 - 

Job Brandon, A man of the world. 

Randolph Archer, A Becluse. ' 

Frank Wallace, A young lawyer. 

Hezekiah Slick, A Yankee peddler. 

Jonathan Dobbs, A baclc-woodsman. 

Patrick Rooney, .* Slick's companion. 

John Perkins, The Landlord. 

Mrs. Brandon, Insane wife of Brandon, 

Mrs. Archer, \ Wife of A rcher. 

Rodna Archer, Daughter of Archer. 

Emily Joyce, Companion of Mrs. Archer. 

Mrs. Perkins, The Landlady. 

COSTUMES. 

BRANDON.— Fifty years old. Fashionable light colored suit; trashy watch seal; 
may wear short burnsides and mustache. 

ARCHER.— Forty-five years old. Act First.— Long gray hair and beard; thread- 
bare coat and waist-coat, slippers. Act Second— Coat exchanged for dressing gown. Act 
Third— Hair and beard trimmed. Plain black suit. 

WALLACE. — Fashionably cut light pants, coat, and waistcoat. 

SLICK. — Large checked pants, long blue coat, brass buttons; blue waistcoat; high 
white hat; large red handkerchief arouud neck; long straight hair, and thin strag- 
gling beard light or sandy. 

DOB US. — Blue woolen shirt, wide collar, large black neck-tie, wide straw hat, 
heavy boots with long tops; may wear a mustache. 

ROONEY.— Dark coarse pants; figured cotton shirt: gaudy handkerchief around 
neck; old coarse shoes; old narrow brimmed soft black hat; red hair; may wear a 
mustache. 

PERKINS.— Sixty years old, rather portly; bald head, red face; linen pants and 
vest; thin black coat; substantial slippers, 

MRS. BRANDON— Straight full'skirt, plain waist, black; black hair long and 
straight hanging loose about her head and shoulders. 

MRS. ARCHER. — Forty years old, plain black suit; gray hair. 

RODNA ARCHER— Eighteen years old, light hair. Act First— jSTeat_ figured 
muslin dress; plain wide brimmed hat, trimmed with blue. Act Second — Plain white 
muslin dress. Act Third — Traveling dress and hat. 

MRS. PERKINS.— Fifty years old, rather stout; gray hair; plain dress, plain cuffs 
and collar; large white apron. 

EMILY JOYCE.— Act First— Traveling dress. Act Second and Third— Plain 
home dress. Twenty years old. 



J8ST Costumes may be modern, or about 1800. 

.6. . 

PROPERTIES. 

ACT FIRST.— Pistol for Archer, two pistols for Brandon, money for Wallace and 
Brandon, pocket-book for Archer. 
ACT SECOND— Pistol for Mrs. Archer. 
ACT THIRD.— Club for Rooney, pistol for Brandon, and dagger for Mrs. Brandon. 



T ^P96-006573 



fitter Ten Years; or, The Maniac Wife. 



ACT! 



SCENE FIRST.— A wood. 

Enter from l., Jonathan Dobbs and Frank Wallace. 

Dobbs. Wa'al, I've done as I agreed— yonder is Lone Cliff, and all 
you've got to do is to follow your nose, and you'll soon be there. 

Wallace. Well my good fellow, I'm sorry to lose your companion- 
ship; so suppose you accompany me to the home of this mountain 
recluse. 

Dobbs. • No, thank ye ; Jonathan Dobbs ain't quite as big a fool 
as he looks. I went tear onct stranger, and I allow I'll not go again. 
No, "not if the court knows herself, and I think she do." 

Wallace. Did you see a ghost, or did the old man set the dog on 
you? 

Dobbs. Wa'al — no, I didn't exactly see a ghost, but I did see the 
queerest old chap I ever sot eyes on, and as crazy as a March hare. 

Wallace. H'm — this is indeed interesting. And does this old man 
live alone, so far from human companionship? 

Dobbs. No — I don't think he docs — when I was thar, I didn't 
'zactly see any one else, but I heerd some one else. 

Wallace. Heard some one else ? 

Dobbs. Yes, and unless I made an altrired mistake, it was a female 
woman's voice I heard too. 

Wallace. A woman's voice? 

Dobbs. Yes,' and it sounded as sweet and purty as a black-bird's 
in the spring. 

Wallace. What did she say ? 

Dobbs. Ye see, the old man was a given it to me hot and heavy, 
fer trespassin' as he called it, an a gitten' hisself worked up into a 
towerin' rage, when that thur voice said — kinder coaxin' and sweet 
— "Now father don't get angry, I don't believe the man means any 
harm," and the old chap cooled right down an' went into the house, 
meek as a kitten. 

Wallace. And you did not see the owner of the voice ? 

Dobbs. Not even her shadder. I didn't care to ask any questions; 
fur I was mighty glad to git out o' that with a hull skin. 

Wallace. How long have these queer people lived here? 

Dobbs. Let me see— nigh about ten years 1 — as nigh as I kin recol- 
lect. 



v 4 AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 

Wallace. And has no one but yourself seen any of them ? 

Dobbs. Not as I has ever heard on. And I ain't in any hurry to 
git better acquainted, you kin jest bet. 

Wallace. Strange, strange, these must be the people I have sought 
for so long and faithfully ; I have followed my instructions to the 
letter, and cannot have made a mistake. I had not expected to find 
a churlish half-crazed hermit, but one of nature's noblemen to whom 
the world had been unjust, and who had buried himself in this pri- 
meval wilderness to commune with nature undisturbed, far from the 
haunts of vice and crime, (to Dobbs who is going ) Stay a moment, 
I must see this strange recluse. Can you suggest any plan by which 
we can overcome his prejudice and gain an audience with him? 

Dobbs. Wa'al— no— I can't say as I kin. The only way I know is 
to go down there and storm the castle. 

Wallace. See here Dobbs f if you will assist me in this matter, I 
will pay you liberaly. 

Dobbs. That's all right— but before I make any bargain with you, 
I want to know what sort o' a scrape you're a goin' to git me into. 

Wallace. I am seeking a man who has be^n terribly wronged; 
robbed of a fortune by a designing villian. The person I 'seek has 
buried himself from sight so effectually, that all trace of him has 
been lost for years, until some months ago a partial clue was obtain- 
ed. This clue I have carefully followed, and it has led me here; 
now if this hermit proves to be the man for whom I am looking, I 
can restore to him position and fortune. There read this document, 
it will prove the truth of my assertions. (gives paper. 

Dobbs. (turning paper over) I'll take ye'n word stranger. But 
what is ye'r name? ye hain't told me that yet, 

Wallace. My name is Frank Wallace — I am partner in the firm 
of Maynard & Wallace, attorneys at law, Philadelphia. Now my 
man, are you satisfied? 

Dobbs. It's all right Mr. Wallace, I'm your man, what am I to do? 

Wallace. Go back to the village and wait until I come. I will go 
down to this mysterious abode and reconnoitcr, and when I return 
we will decide on some plan of action. Meantime be sure and keep 
this to yourself. Here take this as a retainer, {gives money) I will 
be off. A (exit r. 

Dobbs. Wa'al now this is what I call a mighty queer piece of bus- 
iness. Here is a spruce looking feller skipping around all over the 
country a huntin' up a crazy old coot, who hain't got manners 
enough to treat a chap decent when he happens to see him — at least 
that's the way 1 found it. Mebbe though if a feller should bring; 
him a fortin', he'd polish up his manners some. The young coon 
seems to have lots o' chink — let's see how much he planked down 
fer a retainer, as he called it. (takes money out and looks at it. and 
ivhistles] Twenty dollars! Jonathan you're in luck. If this is a 
retainer, what will the whole fee be. (looks l.) Why, blast my 
eyes if there ain't a chap a comin' this way as if Old Nick had a hold 
o' his coat tail! Byjimmey he's togged out to beat anything too! 
Guess I'll interview him as the newspaper chap suys. 

Enter Job Brandon, L., looking nervously around — sees Dobbs. 

Dobbs. Howdy'edo? (bows awkwardly. 

Brandon. Good-day, sir. ( with dignity. 



AFTER TEN YEARS', OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 5 

Dobbs. It's kinder pleasant to-day, guess we're go-in' to have a 
Bpell of weather ? 

Brandon. It will not surprise me in the least, if we do have a 
"spell of weather." It must be about the season for it in these parts? 

Dobbs, Yes, about this time o' year, we gineraly git a spell o' 
weather, (to Brandon who is going] 1 say stranger, you seem to be 
in a mighty big hurry; mebbe yer arter a boss thief or somethin"? 

Brandon, Perhnps I am, and then again, perhaps I am not 
{aside) Perhaps I can learn something of this old fellow, that will 
be of use to me. (aloud) My good fellow, is there a place here about, 
called Witches' Glen? 

Dobbs. Perhaps there is, and then agin, perhaps there ain't. 

Brandon. I know that somewhere not far from here, is a place 
called Witches' Glen. And that there is an old stone house in it, 
said to be haunted — am I not right? 

Dobbs. Wa'al, suppose you are right, what does that signify? 

Brandon. It may not signify much to you ; but that is neither 
here nor there, I want to find the, "haunted house," in Witches' 
Glen. Will 3^011 direct me the way to it? 

Dobbs. (aside) There seems to be a mighty sight o' huntin' fer the 
old house — I'll pump him a little, (aloud) Why, yes, I kin direct 
you the way to the Glen, and the old house, but what in thunder 
you want to go there fer, I can't make out? 

Brandon. Well, which way is it? 

Dobbs. See here stranger; you'd better take a fool's advice, and 
stear clear of that place ; you '11 not get the warmest kind of a welcome, 
if you do happen to stumble on to it. 

Brandon. I cannot see what difference it will make to you, whether 
I am received warmly or not — unless you have some interest there. 

Dobbs. Me, have an interest there? Not a bit of it, you niay be 
mighty sure. 

3randon. Perhaps you have had a reception there, that did not 
flatter you greatly? But that makes no difference to me; what I 
want is to find the place, and I will risk the reception I receive. 

Dobbs. All right, go ahead. The old house is straight across the 
valley, at the foot of that cliff — the tall one in the middle. 

Brandon. I see the place. Good clay. (exit r. 

Dobbs. I'd kinder like to see that filler face the old man — it's my 
private opinion he'll git beautifully curried if he gits inside the house, 
fer the old man is game and no mistake. I wonder whar Mr. Wal- 
lace is by this time, I a'most wish I'd a gone with him, he may get 
into trouble and need some help. But I reckon he can handle the 
old man, if he gits into a muss — I guess I'll make tracks fer town, if 
lie don't git in all right, I'll come back and look fer him. 

(exit Dobbs l. 



SCENE SECOND.— Deep wood in second grooves. 

Enter Bodna Archer, r. 

Bodna. I am surely lost in this forest. I know not which way 
to turn — what shall I do? What shall E do? And to add to the ter- 
rors of my situation, night will soon be upon me. There is no sign 
of human life visible ; and that huge bank of storm clouds, rearing 
it's ragged edge above the mountain tops, portends a tempest, And 



6 AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 

poor father watching and waiting, for me at home! What will be- 
come of me? Oh, what will become of me? (sinks down upon a rock 
covers face with her hands; sways to. and fro; starts up and attempts to 
go on, but weakness prevents; sways as if about to fall) I can not go 
on — my weary limbs refuse there office — I must- rest, (about to sit — 
starts) No — no — I must not stop, I must go on. Who knows what 
clanger may lurk in the tangled recesses of this dark forest; how 
many prowling animals "may he around me, only waiting for night 
to come? Oh, this is terrible, terrible! And see, the sun is sinking 
behind yonder storm cloud, and the gloom of approaching night, in- 
creases the horrors of my situation. Oh, Heaven be merciful! (sinks 
on knees in an attitude of prayer, looks off toward l., starts to her feet.) 
Some one approaches— I will call for assistance. No, no, I dare not. 
It may be better to face the dangers of the forest, than meet a stranger 
here — and yet if assistance does not come, I must perish miserably. 

(starts forward and falls fainting c. 

Enter Wallace, l. I e., hurriedly. 

Wallace. I must make haste, or the storm will be upon me before 
I can reach the village. Ah ! this is the place where I parted from 
my friend Dobbs this morning, I fear he is weary waiting for me 
long ere this. ( sees Bodna, starts) Good heavens ! what is this, a 
corpse? (kneels beside her, taking her hand) No, it is only a faint. 
Byjoveshe is beautiful — I wonder if it is only a faint? she shows no 
sign of life — if she should be dead it would place me in an awkward 
situation — no she will soon revive, there are signs of returning an- 
imation, (during this, Wallace rubs her hands and raises her head on 
his knee. 

Bodna. Where am I, and how came I here? 

Wallace. I don'tknow r how you came here, but I found you a few 
moments ago, lying here in a dead faint. 

Bodna. (rising) Ah, I remember! I am lost in the forest — have 
wandered about since noon, and when I reached this place found my 
self too exhausted to proceed farther — and overcome with fear, 
fainted when I saw you approaching. 

Wallace. I believe my arrival was rather opportune. But pray 
tell me where you live, and I will assist you there as speedily as pos- 
sible. We must soon obtain shelter, for the storm will ere long be 
upon us. 

Bodna. (aside agitated) I cannot, dare not refuse his assistance 
and protection. But what will father say if he accompanies me home ? 
(aloud) I think we had better go to the nearest house for shelter; ' 
I do not know in w r hich diretion my home lies. 

Wallace. The nearest house is at the village, four miles away — 
except the old stone house in Witches' Glen — do you know aught of 
that? 

Bodna. (aside) The old stone house? what does he know of the 
old stone house — my home, (aloud) How far is this old house from 
here ? 

Wallace. Something less than two miles, (aside) She must have 
heard the old house is haunted, else why this agitation? 

Bodna. Will you tell me the direction from here ? 

Wallace. The old house stands at the foot of yonder tall cliff. If 
you are not afraid of it's uncanny reputation, we will endeavor to 



AFTER TEN YEARS; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 7 

reach it before the storm breaks, and demand shelter, which I am 
sure cannot be refused under the circumstances. 

Hodna. You say "demand shelter," would not a request obtain 
it? 

Wallace. No— I do not think anything but a demand, and a pre* 
emptory one would avail. But do not be frightened, for no. one how- 
ever churlish, could refuse you shelter from the night and storm. 
So if you feel equal to the task, we will go at once; we have no time 
to lose. (shouts heard without, 

Hodna. Hear that shout? some other unfortunate must be lost, 

Wallace. If you are not afraid to remain alone a few moments, J 
will investigate. 

Hodna. Oh, go ! go at once ! I am not afraid — you will soon re* 
turn ? 

Wallace. Yes, I will soon return. Do not leave this place until 
I come. (exit Wallace, r. 

Hodna. What will be the result of this accidental, and I may say> 
providential meeting? Here am I, lost in the forest, a night of dark- 
ness and storm coming on ; when a young man — a stranger, finds me 
fainting and exhausted— offers me his guidance and protection which 
1 perforce accept. I must permit him to accompany me home; tc 
my home, which has been so jealously guarded from the outside 
world, for ten long years. Yes, I must brave my father's aner, for 
without his assistance, I cannot hope to reach my home to-night; I 
must choose between the perils of the forest, and' my father's wrath. 
Oh, why did this necessity arise? why did I wander so far from 
home? Circumstances will thus force a part of our well-kept se- 
cret from us. I must submit to the inevitable. And this stranger 
r— he is young and handsome, and 1 am sure well bred; his face and 
bearing assure me I have nothing to fear from him. (looks r.) Ah! 
he comes, and with a companion — perhaps my estimate of him is 
wrong, I will soon know. 

Enter Wallace and Dobbs, r. 

Dobbs. I tell ye, mister, I thought ye wer lost, or had been foully 
dealt with down in that devilish haunted old house, and so I come 
out through the woods a hollerin' like all creation to see if I could 
come acrasst ye any where; and as good luck would have it, I found 
the trail we tuk this morning, aud.so struck ye all right. 

Wallace. I must thank you again, Dobbs, for the interest and 
friendship you express; you will lose nothing I assure you, I will 
pay you liberally. But here is a young lady, whom I found lost and 
fainting, who needs shelter from the coming storm. Where is the 
nearest house? 

Dobbs. The nearest house is that consarned old rookery in the 
glen. 

Wallace. Well, let us go at once, we are wasting precious time — 
the storm will soon be upon us. 

Hodna. Yes, yes, do not delay longer, (aside) Father's anger 
cannot be as terrible as my present situation. 

Dobbs, Come on, then; we'll storm the blamed old castle, if we 
can't get in without. Come! 

Wallace, (to Hodna) Allow me to assist you — the way is rough, 
and we must hasten. (Hodna takes his offered arm — they exit r. 



8 AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 

SCENE THIRD. — The bar-room of a village tavern. John Perkins, 
the landlord, Pat Booney and Hezekiah Slick discovered, 

Perkins. I tell you what, it's devilish queer that two fine gentle- 
men should he looking for the haunted house in Witches' Glen in 
one day. 

Booney* I'll shwear to that same meself, for it's the queerest busi- 
ness oive sane this many a day, sure. 

Perkins. The mystery is, how did they ever find out there is 
such a place? 

Booney. Shure that's a question oive no manes of answering at 
all, at all. 

Slick. Mebbe if yeou'd ask one o' them chaps yeou'd find out. 

Booney. Divila bit would I care to be siskin' the ould party wid 
the portly watch seal, for unless Pat Rooney is off his parpendicular 
entirely ye'd he moighty apt to git a rap along side the gourd, that 
would remind yez of a Donnybrook fair. 

Perkins. And then the young fellow giving Jonathan Dobbs 
twenty dollars to help him get to the old place, shows pretty clear 
that there is a bigger mystery about the whole thing than any of us 
has suspected. 

Booney. That's mighty true for yez, landlord, and it's meself 
that'll be figgerin' out the mysterious mystery of the whole thing 
mighty soon^ I can tell yez. 

Slick. I've hern a mighty sight o' talk about this haunted house 
in my emigratory perambulations about the country. Old Aunty 
Dillas who lives up in Mullen Lane, sed as how she didn't believe any 
one lived thai* 'ccpt ghosts and sich. But I'm darned if I wouldn't 
like to find out, and I'd like to appoint a committee o' ten to carry 
on an exhaustin' examination o' the hull concern. What d'ye say, 
Paddy, will ye make one o' that committee? 

Booney. Arrah, now ye's speekin' right out in meetin', so ye are. 
Give us yer hand, ye traveler merchant; I'll freeze to yez as close as 
if the thermomater were a foot below Ceasar. (they shake hands 

Perkins. I'd really like to know what started Jonathan out in 
such a big hurry awhile ago. 

Slick, Thar's some more o' this mysterious mystery hangin' 
around this affair that Paddy and me must elucidate purty consider- 
able. Eh, Paddy? 

Booney. Yes right again, partner; an' it'll be a mighty dark 
saycret if we don't git it dead to rights before long. Hold on there, 
Pat, ef there ain't the ould party wid the portly watch seal a comin' 
smack into the house. 

Enter Job Brandon, R. 

Brandon. Landlord, I would like supper immediately. 
Perkins. I will attend to it at once. {exit, l. 

Booney. Mister Slick, how did yez find the folks down in 
Witches' Glen the other day? 

Brandon starts, half turns around, quickly recovers his composure, is 
closely watched by both men. 

Slick.. Wall, jest so— so middling like. Doin' purty well consider* 
in'. 

Booney. An' when are yez goin' down again? 



AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 



9 



Slick. In a few days I reckon. Ye see they sorter wanted some 
merchandise I didn't hey' in stock — stock o' summer goods kinder 
run clown ye know — so when I get my new stock I'm agoin' to 
meander down that way again an' give 'em a chance to lay in a 
supply o' fine goods, such as they kin git no where else. Sold only 
by H. v Slick, Esq., proprietor o' the greatest travelin' ein-po-ri-um, 
dry goods, notions, etc. 

Booney. Arrah now, me travelin' dry goods store; when you 
make yer next thrip to the ould place couldn't yez give me a clark- 
ship? Oi'd like mighty well to make the acquaintance of them in- 
terestin' people who live with the ghosts and hobgobblins down for- 
uinst the big rock. 

Slick. Paddy, did ye ever hear o' peepin'Tom? 

Booney. Pa pin' Tom? And who the devil is papin' Tom? T 
never heard o' him. 

Slick. Ye see, Paddy, he peeped once too often and lost his eye- 
sight. 

Roomy. And by the same tokin yez think Pd lose me own eye- 
sight bv takin' ;i pape too much? Niver a bit of it, me Soloman 
friend, I'll be mighty careful of that. 

Brandon. {.tio'Slick) It seems yon know something of the mys- 
terious people who live in Witches' Glen? 

Slick. I might know more and I might know less. 

Brandon. Well, tell us what you do know about them. Yout 
conversation has interested me greatly. There is, I believe, a vein 
of superstition in every person's nature, and that I have been endow- 
ed with a fair share of it I am willing to admit. 

Slick. No siree, you'll never git Hezekiah Slick to tell tales on his 
customers. 

Booney. That's right, me travelin' emporium. That kind of 
sentiment makes the whole world kin. Give me yer hand, I likes to 
shake with an honest man. If ye wasn't a Yankee oi'd swear ye 
was an Irishman. ( they shake hands 

Brandon. You misunderstand me, I do not wish to pry into 
family secrets, I only feel curious about these people because I have 
heard so many queer things about them, and you seem better able to 
gratify my love of the marvelous than any one I have seen. So I 
trust you'will satisfy my curiosity in some degree. 

Slick. I might be able to satisfy your curiosity but I ain't agoin' 
in that direction. 

Booney. Stick to yer text, me b'y. Yer on the high road to im- 
minence and distinction. 

Brandon, (aside) How can I open that fool's mouth? 

Enter Perkins, the landlord, L. 

Perkins. Your supper is readj r . This way, sir. 

(exit landlord and Brandon, L. 

Slick. That chap wants to find out somethin' mighty bad, and so 
do we, don't we Paddy? 

■ Booney. Yer right again', me b'y ; an' as sure as Saint Patrick 
was a gentleman we'll be at the bottom of it before long. 

Slick. Yes, Paddy, yer a cute one. The interrogations ye pro- 
pounded set him agoin' in good shape. He thinks we know a heap 
about this thing, an' he'll want to find it all out. 



^0 AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 

Booney. See here, me jewil, I know yez got a foin eddieation, but 
if ye'd plaze leave out some of them big words an' try to talk the 
"blessed King's English t' would be obligin' me ye'd be. 

Slick. All right, Paddy. As near as 1 can make out ye never 
had a tarnal sight o' schoolin', an' to oblige ye I'll endeavor to leave 
out some of the big words. But ye set; a man in my line o' business 
must learn to use mighty takin' language — it's a part o' his stock in 
trade ye know. 

Booney. Oive no doubt of it at all, at all, for it would be takin' 
meself a divil of a time to make out the maneing of them. 

Slick. I tell ye Paddy, when I get time, I'll give ye a few lessons 
in the art o' talkin' that'll surprise you. 

Booney. It'ssurprisin' me ye've been fur a long while wid yer 
big words an' yer solemn face. Why, me b'y, any man to look at 
yez would be willin' to swear ye couldn't lie or ehate no more thin 
an out an' out pracher. 

Slick. Supposin' we change the subject o' conversation. I reck- 
on we can find suthin' o' more general interest to talk about. 

Booney. Oi'm ever wid yez, as the corn said to the tight boot. 
Give us a start an' away we go. 

Slick. Come on, Paddy, we must be stirin'. Let's take a walk 
an' be a maturin' some plan o' action. Come on. 

( exit Slick and Booney, r. 

Enter Brandon, l. 

Brandon. Halloa! the traveling merchant and his would-be- 
clerk are gone. He evidently knows something about these people 
in the Glen, and I suppose the only way to open his mouth is to un- 
lock it with a golden key. I'll try its potency when I see him again. 
I must devise some plan by which to penetrate to the shell of their 
recluse and get at the kernel of his identity. 1 am very positive 
there is no mistake, but I must be doubly certain before I move. 
The game is a desperate one and requires the utmost caution. I 
mustnot alarm him until I am ready to act. I must mature my 
plans at once. I have never failed in any scheme, I will not fail in. 
this. And she, perdition blast her, has managed to elude the vigi- 
lance of her keepers and make her escape. She may cause me 
trouble at any time. If I can get her in my power again I will end 
forever the possibility of further trouble from her. She has been a 
thorn in my flesh for years. She has kept the fires of hell burning 
in my soul. I loved her once — she scorned me and choose another; 
since that time I have live;! only for revenge. I hate them both. 
For ten years they have felt the scorching breath of my hatred— 
they shall feel it still. She has escaped me for a time, but he is in 
my power. I feel the thrills of my coming triumph — of my re-" 
venge. I must be moving; time flies and 1 am all impatience. 

( exit, r. 

Enter Mrs. Archer and Emily Joyce, d. c. 

Mrs Archer. At last, dear Emily, we have reached a haven of 
safety. We can surely conceal ourselves among these mountains so 
effectually that even Job Brandon's lynx-eyed hate cannot discover 
us. 



AFTER TEN YEARS; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 11 

Emily. I am confident we shall be perfectly safe here, Mrs. 
■Archer. And yon will now have the opportunity of obtaining the 
vest you so much need. 

Mrs A. Yes, Emily, I feel a buoyancy of freedom which I have 
not felt before for years. It seems to me that I am now free from 
the persecutions of that incarnate villain. I feel new hope— new 
life. I can almost believe my storm 7 tossed life has at last reached a 
Safe harbor. God grant it may be so. 

Emily. Yes, the sky is once more clear, the star of hope is shin- 
ing brightly upon us. Ah ! here comes mine host. 

Enter landlord, l. 

Perkins. Ahem! In what way can I serve you, ladies? 

Emily. We would like a quiet room and supper served in it, 
please. 

Perkins, {bowing) Your supper will be ready in half an hour, 
and I will see that your room is prepared at once. {exit, bowing 

Emily. I believe our lives have fallen in pleasant places. Our 
host beams with good nature and hospitality, and the house is neat 
and well appointed. 

3Irs A. Yes, Emily, everything seems as pleasant and quiet 
here. I feel so secure, so free from apprehension, it seems like a 
new world. [ cannot at once dispel the shadow of my life, and the 
old horror creeps over me at times. "But hope springs eternal from 
the human heart," and 1 live on. Oh, if I could only penetrate the 
mystery of my loved one's fate. 

Emily. There, dear friend, let us think of brighter things. En- 
joy your freedom and the beauties around 3 r ou. Look upon the 
bright side — all will yet be well. Here comes the landlord, we will 
try and get some much needed rest. 

Enter landlord, R. 

Perkins. Ladies, your room is prepared. I will show you the 
Way. {exit> l., landlord showing them out. Change to 

SCENE FOUBTH.—A village street. 

Enter, l., Pat Booney and Slick* 

Booney. Well, me solemn friend, how air ye progressin' ? 

Slick* See here, partner, I've been talkin' around an' makin* 
some observations, an' I've made up my mind to go down to the 
Glen to onct an' look arter the biz at headquarters. That thar chap 
that wee see at the tavern this afternoon, is a skirmishin' 'round 
right lively, an' I've abeout concluded we'll hev' to hurry if we 
get ahead o' him. 

Booney. Ah, me jewil, that's the way oi likes to hear yez talk. Ye 
may count on Pat Rooney every time, an' if we two can't make 
things as loively as a Donnybrook fair, fer any spalpane who nades 
his mug frescoed, may Old Nick fly away wid the likes of me. 

Slick* Hold on, Paddy, it's a mighty good time to keep yer jaw 
a little quiet. Here comes our friend of the tavern. 

Booney. Mum is the word. 



12 AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 

Enter Brandon, r. 

Brandon. Halloa ! lads. I have been looking for you. 

Roomy. Is it lookin' fer us, ye say? Ye can be lookiu' at us now 
if ye have a mind to, so ye can. 

Brandon. See here, I want to talk business with you. 

Slick. Fire away. 

Brandon. I learned from your conversation to-day that you know 
something of the people who live in Witches' Glen. 

Slick. Wa'al, supposin' I do? 

Brandon. Now I want you to tell me all you know about them, 
and perhaps I'll need your assistance in making some arrests and "in 
various other matters which you will know about in due time. The 
labor will be light and the pay large. What say you, is it a bar- 
gain ? 

Slick. See here, mister, we'll kind o' take this thing into con- 
sideration for a few minutes an' let ye know what we'll do. I sup- 
pose we'll find ye here or hereabouts when we git back? 

Brandon. Yes, yes, I will be here. Do not; remain away long as 
time is precious. We must be moving. {exit Roone'y and Slick, h. 
— If those fellows serve me faithfully I am sure to succeed. Ha! 
there comes two ladies, and I 'could almost swear I know one of 
them. No, no, it is impossible; she cannot have found her way to 
this out of the way place. However, I must be cautious. It may be 
her, and if it is, the devil has surely conspired to help his own. I 
will conceal myself and await developments. 

(steps around corner, l. 

Enter Mrs. Archer and Emily from r. 

Mrs A. This mountain air revives me; I feel new life and vigor, 
and this glad sense of freedom lightens the dark cloud of sorrow 
which has so long been about me. Can it be that I have at last es- 
caped my persecutors, at last reached the morning of a happier life? 
Oh ! if I could only realize it, how grateful I should be. 

Emily. Dear Mrs. Archer, do not think of the past, bury it for- 
ever from your memory. Bury it as deeply as we are buried from 
the great sinful world without. 

Mrs A. Dear Emily, I only wish I could forever ban'sh the recol- 
lection of my great wrong. I will strive to do so, but years of per- 
secution has graven it upon my memory too deeply to be ensily effac- 
ed. Oh, Emily, you can form no just conception of what I have suf- 
fered, of my long agony; I have prayed and striven for release, but 
failure was written upon every effort, every prayer. I have longed 
for death, and in a frenzy of despair had many, times attempted to 
end my miserable life. But all to no purpose, except perhaps, to in- 
crease the rigor of my imprisonment, if that had been possible. I 
often wondered if God heard my prayer, and as days, months and 
3 r ears came and went, and brought no relief, I denied the existence 
of a benificent creator, and in my despair peopled the universe with 
hideous monsters and their j >y and sport. At last 1 sank into a 
despair so deep, so hopeless that thought and action were well nigh 
paralyzed ; even my keepers cruelty could scarcely rouse me from 
this stupor of horror. Then you came to my prison like an angel of 
mercy and deliverance, and with j r ou came the first ray of hope that 



AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 13 

had pierced the gloom for ten long weary years. Can yon wonder 
that hope has withered ? 

Emily. Dear Mrs. Archer, do not think of your troubles now, 
they are past never to return. 

Mrs A, My little comforter, you are a veritable ray of sunshine. 
I owe you more than I can ever repay, but 

Emily. Hush! do not speak of that, you were my mother's dear- 
est friend. You did everything for her, and I am but doing what 
she would do if she were here, and I am sine she smiles approval at 
my course; and her angel song is all the sweeter for my doing. All 
I can do will never make you my debtor. 

Mrs A. I will say no more of that, and I believe I could once 
more be calmly happy if I could know the fate of my husband and 
daughter. If they are living I could not expect a reconciliation, that 
villain has done his work too well for that. But if I knew their fate* 
if I were sure that they are dead and at rest, it would relieve me of 
this suspense. If I could kneel at their graves and pray, if I could 
whisper my love for them to the daisies perhaps an angel hovering 
near might take the whisper to the great beyond. I would then feel 
my ioved.ones would Vnovv my innocence and love me still. Or if I 
could know they are living, and could see them once more — only 
once — see them, myself unseen ; hear their voices unobserved, I 
could go away forever, filled with a great joy in comparison with 
my present feeling of uncertainty. t 

Emily. Do not give way to grief. I say now, as I have said 
many times before, that I believe your husband and daughter are 
alive and well, and will be again restored to you. 

Mrs A. I have hoped against hope until I* can hope no more, but 
as longas I am free from persecution I will try to be resigned. 

Emily. I am glad to hear you say that. Let us now return to 
the inn, where we. can rest and mature our plans for the future. 

(exit Mrs. Archer and Emily, R, 

Enter Brandon, L. 

Brandon. She here? She who could ruin me if her story should 
be known and believed? What am I to do first? I mu&t silence 
her — yes, silence her forever. But first 1 must penetrate the mys- 
tery surrounding this hermit. If he should prove to be Randolph 
Archer — as I hope he may — I must dispose of him as a preliminary, 
and then she will be my especial care, i I cannot, will not, give up 
revenge, and the fortune I have so long enjoyed. By one means or 
another I will dispose of these people. I have gone too far to retract, 
even if I felt disposed to do so, which I do not. And so, by one 
bold stroke, I will make myself absolute master of the situation. 
Ah ! here comes my brave allies. 

Enter Slick and Booney, l. 

— Well, what is your decision? Are we partners? Remember I 
will pay you well. 

Slick. Wa'al, mister, we kinder thought we'd help ye out with 
this here business, so we might as well commence to onct. 

Brandon. All right, men. (gives money ; If you serve me faith- 
fully you will have no cause to regret it. 



14 AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 

Mooney. Well, gineral, what have we to do? Give us yer orders 
an' we're the b'ys'to follow 'em. 

Brandon. As a beginning, I want our traveling merchant to tell 
rne what he knows about the old stone house and its occupants. 

Slick. Wall, ye see toy knowledge o' the old stun house and folks 
ain't so very extensive. All I know is what I've hearn when I've 
been a goin' around the kentry in my official capacity. 

Brandon. And were you never there ? 

Slick. Not as anybody knows on. 

Brandon. Why you said you had been there, and that the folks 
were well, and 

Booney. Hould on there, yer along ways off the track; 'twas me- 
self that asked the traveliu' 'sfcorc-kaper how the folks war, an' he 
sed when he wor there last they wor well. I'll be willin' to shwear 
lie told the blessed truth. 

Brandon. H'm ! I see a neat little trick — a sleek job. 

Booney. An' what the divil would yez expect but a slick job from 
Misther Slick himself? 

Brandon. Well, let that pass. If you serve me well hereafter I 
will overlook this little stratagem. So now let us to business. 

Slick. Ail right, let the procession move. 

Brandon. Now 1 want to find out all I can about those people in 
the Glen. I want to know how many there are ; how they look ; how 
they live; in short 1 want to know as much of their history as 'tis 
possible to obtain. "You understand ? 

Slick. Yas, I think I see the pint. But how are we to make it? 

Brandon. Uow far is it from here? 

Slick. Nigh onto six mile as nigh as I kin figger. 

Brandon. Six miles? Quite a tramp, but it must be done. See 
here, my idea is this; we must go down there to-night, gain admit- 
tance to the house if possible, learn everything we can, and then hit 
upon some plan of action as suggested by circumstances. 

Slick. That'll do, that'll do.' But see it is a big walk for j^ou, an 
my idea is this : Paddy an me will go down thai" to-night an scout 
around a bit, an' ye go back to the tavern an' take a good rest fer to- 
morrow. In the mornin' we'll report, an' then ye can determine 
jist what ye want to do an' no mistake* 

Brandon. I believe your advice is good, and I will do as •you pro- 
pose. Now be sure you see all there is to see and hear all you can. 
Are you armed ? 

Slick. Only with what naft.tr 1 furnished us. Ye don't think we'll 
need weapons, do ye? 

Brandon. I hope not, yet you may. Here is a pistol for each of 
you, they are both well loaded. Do not use them unless it is neces- 
sary, but if it is necessary use them well. 

Booney. All right mehearty. Oi'd sooner have a good shilkilah 
than all the barkers like that oi could carry. However, oi'll take it 
along fer pastime. 

Brandon. Now remember, no blabbing. Keep your mouths closed 
and your eyes open. Report early. Learn all you can. I will re- 
turn to the inn. , (exit Brandon, r. 

Slick. Paddy, if I've got any sense, that man is a villain. There r s 

some deviltry going on here that's sufferin' to be looked arter, an' 

I think we's just the fellers to look arter it. What do you think? 

Booney. Thira's me sintiments to a T, an' if we don't make the 



AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. * 15 

spalpane look siven ways for Good-Friday, thin mo name's not Pat- 
rick Kooney at all, at all' • 

Slick. Now we're oft*. Keep all ye's wits about ye, an' suthm* 
will transpire. Come, Paddy, (exit liooney and Slick, l. Change to 



SCENE FIFTH.— A room in the old stone house. Comfortahbj 
furnished. Center table, easy chairs, books and papers on table. When 
the curtain rises Itandolph Archer discovered seated' by table, l., read' 
ing book. J 

* r 

Archer, (looking at book absently) Paradise Lost. This fits my 
mood to-day. If 1 contemplate the tortures of the damned, perhaps 
my own torments will seem less by comparison, Retrospection only 
dwells upon a barren waste, a human desert, a shifting sea of unut- 
terable loneliness, sw r ept by the simoon of bitter memories. All 
life is blasted, not a sprig of hope is green; all, all, is withered — 
dead. What is this thing we call life ? It is but a moment of check- 
ered changing light, a narrow strip of day betw-een two eternal 
nights. And yet we strive for it, we do not wish to lose it. We 
have no fear of the dark eternity from which we emerged — that is 
past; we only fear the eternity to come. We are ushered into this 
life through no volition of our own, we are hurried out of it against 
our will. We are mere reeds shaken — broken by the winds and as 
soonforgotten. Is life then worth the living? Is this forced exis- 
tence worth preserving? Can the terrors of the unknown, equal the 
suffering of the known ? My life for years has been a continual hor- 
ror; a nightmare, can eternity be worse? Ten years ago to-day, I 
sought this lonely spot, to hide myself and my sorrows, from a pitiless 
world. During all these years, I have seen but one human being other 
than my own household. I have seen my daughter grow. to lovely 
womanhood ; expand her beauties like an opening rose, and fill my 
house with the fragrance of her love, and presence. As I look on 
her fresh young beauty, I feel this cannot last ; she needs better com- 
panionship than I can give her. She will soon begin to grow im- 
patient of the restraints imposed upon her, and will wear out her 
bright young life against the dingy bars of her prison. But what 
can I do? Here am I, a wreck on life's stream, floating onward with 
the tide, with no strength and disposition to make my way against 
the current; the only thing that binds me to life, is my daughter's 
love. Oh, if I could clasp her in my arms and we two sink into the 
blessed oblivion of the great unknown together, in my dying 
moment I w/ould be supremely happy. It cannot be, I must struggle 
on, for her sake I must live and endure. It is growing dark, and 
Rodna is not yet returned, what can have detained her? (goes tc 
window and looks out) A furious storm is almost upon us, and yet 
she is not here, (walks hurriedly back and forth, lightning and thunder) 
Oh, Heaven ! Where is she ? Why does she stay 9 She must be lost 
in the forest — lost to perish, (storm) Yes, she must be lost — lost 
on such anight as this — in the forest perishing — torn by wild beasts ! 
(kneels) Oh, God of heaven ! spare me this agony! Save oh, save 
my child ! She is all I have ! Bring her back to me, bring her back 
tome! (furious storm, rises and moves about wildly) There is no 
justice, no pity — no God — nothing but agony, agony ! I will search 
for her. 



16 AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 

Enter Iiodna, followed bij Wallace and Dobbs, 

Archer. She must not die ! (sees Iiodna, and stands stupefied, 

Eodna. (rushes to him and throws her arms about his neck) Fath- 
er, father, I am here alive and well. 

Archer. Yes, it is you, safe and well; heaven be praised! But 
why were you gone so long? I was almost crazed, when I thought 
of you lost in the forest— I am thankful my fears are not realized. 

Iiodna. Dear father, I was lost, completely lost, and should have 
perished miserably, had not I received assistance. 

Archer. My daughter you alarm me again, when you speak of 
perishing. But who is your protector? Heaven bless him! 

Iiodna. I do not know who he is — I only know he met me in the 
forest, when I was fainting — perishing, and guided me home. 

Archer. What, did become to the house? You did not ask him 
to enter? 

Iiodna. Why, father! After what he did for me, not ask him in 
Dtit of this storm ? 

Archer. Rodna, you know I never extend hospitality to any one, 
under any circumstances. I will reward him liberaly, but cannot 
give him entertainment. Where is he Rodna? 

Wallace, (coming forward) He is here, sir. 

Archer, (aside) 1 fear my secret is dip covered, (aloud) Allow 
me to thank you for the service you rendered my daughter; and also 
allow me to offer you something more substantial than thanks. 

(takes out pocket-book. 

Wallace. Pardon me, sir, I feel amply repaid for all my trouble, 
in the consciousness that I was able to assist your daughter, and all 
I ask is permission for myself and companion to remain with you 
until the storm subsides. 

Archer. It may seem very rude in me, to refuse so small a request 
after the great service you rendered my daughter; but for ten years 
no one has crossed my threshold, except members of my own family. 
My rule is inflexible in this, and cannot be broken ; so however rude 
and ur thankful I may seem, I must request— nay insist that you retire 
from this room — and house. 

Iiodna. Father, do let these strangers stay Until the storm is over. 

Archer. It cannot be my child, I would gladly give them money 
— anything — but permission to tarry beneath this roof. I must insist 
gentleman, that you leave my house at once. 

Dobbs. (to Wallace) See here, we'd better be goin' or we'll have 
the devil to pay here, an' no mistake. 

Wallace, (to Archer ) I am very sorry that I consider it necessary 
to disregard your order for a short time. I have something to say 
to you which is of the utmost importance to you and yours. 

Archer. I am at a loss, sir, to understand your meaning; you a 
stranger have something of importance to say to me? I do not be- 
lieve you — it is only an artifice to gain time. Why, I have had no 
commucation with the outside world, for ten years. 

Wallace. And yet sir, with all your doubts and disbelief, what I 
have told you is true. I have traveled a thousand miles with the 
sole purpose of seeing: you Mr. Archer. 

Archer, (astcle) My God ! To see me? I am lost, (aloud) You 
are mistaken — mistaken, do you hear? My name is not Archer — you 
are in error, (aside) Oh, heaven! It has come at last, (aloud) 



AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 17 

You — both of you — leave my house, now — at once — and forever. 

Wallace. Mr. Archer I will not leave 3'our house, until I have an 
opportunity to explain my meaning and intentions. 

Archer. I don't wish to hear anything you can say; I only want 
you to take yourself off. Once more I command you to go. 

Wallace. And once more I refuse. You must hear my story. 

Archer. You will not go? The consequences be upon your own 
head, {draws pistol, about to level it at Wallace, Dobbs rushes forward 
siezes his arm and disarms him.) 

Rodna. Father, father, what would you do? 

Archer. What would I do ? Defend "myself and household against 
unwarranted intrusion. 

Rodna. Oh, father, commit murder? No, no, you must be calm, 
you must think. 

Archer. Think child? I am always thinking, thinking of the 
wrong and persecutions I have suffered ; thinking of the weary years 
spent in exile ; thinking of my life blasted ; thinking of a future with- 
out hope; thinking until my brain whirls, and my only object, a 
desire for revenge and death. Thinking — thinking — thinking of the 
past — of the present — and of that to come, (knocking heard) Ha! 
■What is that? Am I to be forever pursued and persecuted ? (knock- 
ing) Is there no way to escape my fate ? 

Roony. (outside) Open the dure my by'e, we'd as well mate the 
storm inside as to stay out here an' be drowned loike blind kittens. 

Enter Slick and Rooney l., without ceremony. Dobbs hides, Wallace, 
Archer, and Rodna on R. facing l — as they enter, Rodna advances to 
meet them; Archer much agitated talking with Wallace. 

Rodna. What means this unceremonious intrusion? 
Slick. Your servant ma'am. ( bows) We were kitched out in this 
big storm an' so we come in to wait a bit until it is over. 
^Rodna. This is an unwarranted liberty; you must retire. 
Rooney. We couldn't think of it till the storm sthops. 
Archer. You will think of it now — there is the door, go ! 

Enter Brandon, hurriedly l. comes to c. all stare at him, 

Brandon. Well my lads, I am here, I thought perhaps I might be 
needed, so I procured a guide, and came on in of spite of storm and 
darkness, (sees Archer, aside) Ha, ha! It is he, I have tracked 
him to his lair, (aloud) Well, Eandolph Archer, you do not seem 
overjoyed to see me ! You give the friend and companion of your 
boyhood and youth, a very cool reception I think — have you no 
word of welcome for your old friend ? 

Archer. Job Brandon! 

Brandon. Yes, Kandolph Archer, Joe Brandon. Why don't you 
welcome me? . 

Archer. Why do you persecute me? You destroyed my home, 
and made me an exile — is not that enough? 

Brandon. No it is not enough; I want to give you one more pang; 
I want to see you writhe in mortal agony, when I tell you your wife 
was innocent in thought and deed; when I tell you she was pure as 
an angel; when I telf you she was the guileless instrument I used to> 
brand'you a — 

Archer. Job Brandon, you have made a mistake in seeking me ou£ 



18 AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR. THE MANIAC WIFE. 

Ten years ago, I registered a solemn vow, that if ever yon crossed 
my path, I would end your miserable life. And now 1 will make 
my vow good. 

Archer starts towards Brandon, who draws pistol and shoots Archer. 
Slick and Bo&ney attempt to interfere for Brandon, Wallace knocks 
Slick down, Dobbs rushes in and trips Booney; mean time Bodna kneels 
and supports Archer y s head. 

Brandon, (triumphantly) Ah, Randolph Archer, who triumphs 
now? (Tableau.) 

CURTAIL. 

ACT II. 



A period of four or five weeks is supposed to have elapsed, between act I. 

and act II. 

SCENE FIB ST. — A room in the Inn, substantially furnished. Mrs. 
Archer and Emily Joyce, discovered seated at table r. 

Emily. Dear Mrs. Archer, why are you so sad to-day? The storm 
of last night seems to have left a shadow upon your face. Are you 
sure you are quite well ? 

Mrs A. Yes, Emily, I am quite well physically, but my mind is 
filled with gloomy forebodings. There is a nameless shadow hover- 
ing over me, a something I cannot define, seems to be crushing out 
my life. 

Emily. These I think are. groundless fears, it is but a reaction 
from the buoyancy yon have felt for the past few weeks; so cheer 
up, and let me see j t ou smile again. 

Mrs A. Yes Emily, for your sake T will endeavor to be my wont- 
ed self. But this dread is upon me like the incubus of some horrid 
dream. 

Emily. Explain your fears. Tell me what you dread. 

Mrs A. I cannot put my fears into words. There is before me a 
gigantic form of shadowy terror, that goes on expanding like the 
poor fisherman's genii, until it fills the whole horizon — a nameless, 
shapeless, horror; a presentment of some terrible calamity is ever 
present— I cannot shake it oft'. 

Emily. I hope and believe your presentments of evil will prove 
false. Come, let us take a walk; the brightness outside will dissi- 
pate your unpleasant thoughts. 

Mrs A. I dare not go far from the house; we will go into the 
garden for a short time. Get my wraps and bonnet, please. (exit, 
Emily, l.) I must make an effort to s-hake oft' this fear; perhaps a 
breath or two of this delicious mountain air will aid me. 

Enter 3Irs. Perkins, c. 

Mrs P. How are you feeling to-day, Mrs. Archer? You look 
worn out. I fear you are not well. 
Mrs A. I am not feeling well to-day, Mrs. Perkins. You have 



AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WlFSf. l9 

heard something of my history and therefore know I have been the 
victim of systematic persecution for years. And to-day the old 
dread is upon me, I cannot shake oif the impression that some terri- 
ble calamity is about to befall me. It makes no difference which 
Way I turn I can see nothing but the scowling malignant face of my 
enemy. Oh! Mrs. Perkins, it is terrible, terrible! 

Mrs P. Do not give way to your dark forebodings, Mrs. Archer. 
If your old enemy should find you he could do you no harm here— 
you have friends who would protect you. 

Mrs A. I know I have in yourself and husband, true friends; but 
I could not think of bringing trouble upon you, as it would surely do 
if you should openly defend me. My persecutor is wealthy and 
powerful, and if he should find me here, and protected by you, he 
would stop at nothing until yon had felt the blistering touch of his 
vengeance. No, Mrs. Perkins, I must light the battle alone. 

Mrs P. You have not told me the name of your enemy. Is that 
a secret ? 

Mrs A. Oh, no. I did not wish to burden you With all my 
troubles so I did not tell his name or all his villainies. His name is 
Job Brandon. 

Mrs P. Job Brandon ! 

Mrs A, You seem* surprised, Mrs. Perkins. Do you know him? 

Mrs P. I have seen him. 

Enter Emily, L. 

Emily. Here are your wraps and bonnet. Good morning Mrs. 
Perkins, I hope you are well ? 

Mrs P. Quite well, thank you. 

Emily. Come, Mrs. Archer, we will be going. I am so anxious 
to see the roses on your cheeks and the smile on your lips again. 

Mrs A. As Emily insists so strongly I cannot refuse. 

Mrs P. Do not go far from the house, you are not able to take a 
long walk this morning. 

Mrs A. Only into the garden, we will soon return. 

(exit Emily and Mrs. Archer, R. 

Mrs P. Job Brandon ! I was sure I could not be mistaken in the 
man. He has villain stamped too plainly upon his countenance. 
His presence here casts a shadow upon Mrs. Archer's path. I must 
consult with my husband; Mrs. Archer shall be protected if we can 
do it. 

Enter Perkins, c. 

—Ah I John, I am glad you came in, l was just going to look for 
you. 

Perkins* Well, Matilda, what is it now? Are the provisions all 
gone? or the carpets give out? or the cook in a tantrum? or the 
chambermaids on a strike ? or——* 

Mrs P. There, John, that will do. You seem to imagine I can 
think or talk of nothing but provisions, or servants. That ain't it, I 
Want to speak of Mrs. Archer. 

Perkins. Of Mrs. Archer? Why, what's the matter .with her ? 
She ain't going away is she? 

. Mrs P. Well, I don't know. Do you know, John, I have found 
out who the villain is that's persecuted her so long? 

Perkins, Is that so ? Who is he ? I'd like to punch his head. 



20 £FTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 

M'r s P. It's Job Brandon ! 

Perkins. Job Brandon ? Pshaw, Matilda, you are getting demented. 

Mrs P. I tell you, John Perkins, I know what I'm talking about, 
and I say it's Job Brandon; and what's more I believe this same Job 
Brandon had more to do with this row at the old stone house than 
any of us think — that's what I believe. 

Perkins. I tell you, Matilda, I don't believe a word of it. Mr. 
Brandon pays well, and 

Mrs P. See here, John Perkins, don't you suppose a villain could 
pay as well as ail honest man? If that's all the reason you've got 
for thinking him honest it's a mighty poor one, I can tell you. 

Perkins. You say Mrs. Archer told you it was Brandon? Well, 
if she says so, I'll believe it. But Matilda, mebbe she is mistaken, 
mebbe there's another man by the name of Job Brandon. 

Mrs P. That of course is possible. But I believe this is the man. 
And I want you to keep your eyes and ears open, and if he is the 
villain as we suspect, we must help Mrs. Archer circumvent him. 

Perkins. That's so, Matilda. I believe Mrs. Archer is a mighty 
good woman, and I'll help her if I can. I want to see that peddler 
Slick; I'm sure he knows something about him. He's a mighty 
cute one; don't know as I can manage to get anything out of him, 
but I'll try. 

Mrs P. There he comes now, pack and all. I'll go and send him 
right in. (exit, c. 

Perkins. Now Matilda speaks of it there is something I don't 
quite like about this Brandon. He's polite enough, and all that, and 
he pays well, but there seems to be something lacking; I can't just 
tell what, but there's something, and 1 know it. If Ik; is the devil 
who has caused her all this trouble he'll wish he'd never been born. 

Enter Slick, c. 

^How dye do ; how dye do, Mr. Slick ? Take a seat, take a seat. 
How is trade these days? Pretty good, I take it. 

Slick. Wa'al, yes, fair to middlin.' Don't think I've got any rea- 
son to complain. 

Perkins. How is the Widow Dill now? 

Slick. Why the widder's gettin' long purty fair T allow. She was 
considerable pert like when I was up to her house last Tuesday. 

Perkins. Ahem ! Yes, the widow is a getting along in years. 

Slick. Yas, she's a gittin' along into the seared and yeller leaf 
period, as the poet says. 

Perkins. I suppose the widow is getting too old to buy much? 

Slick. Ef you'd a hearn her a bargainin' for apiece o' blue and 
white figgerecl caliker, the other day, you'd a thought she was right 
in her prime. It takes a heap o' real down-right cuteness to sell her 
anything fur a livin' price. 

Perkins, {after a long pause) Oh ! by the way, Mr. Slick, have 
you heard anything new about the muss down at the old stone 
house ? 

Slick. No I ain't. 

Perkins. Do you suppose Brandon had anything to do with it? 

Slick. He might 'a had. 

Perkins. Mr. Slick, it's my private opinion Brandon is a villain. 

Slick. Mebbe he is. 



AFTER TEN YEARS', OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 21 

' Perkins. And it's my opinion, Mr. Slick, that you know more 
abont this affair than you'd care to tell. 

Slick. What makes you think so? 

Perkins. I have reasons, and 1 think they are good ones. 

Slick. See here, landlord, ef you think your agoin' to pump me 
you've overshot yer mark, I can tell ye. 

Perkins. I don't want to pump you, Mr. Slick, but there are two 
ladies in my house who have been awfully wronged by that man, 
and I am bound to protect them if I can; and so I want to know 
what sort of a chap I've got to deal with. 

Slick. Who air these ladies ? 

Perkins. One is a Mrs. Archer, and 

Slick. Mrs. who? 

Perkins. Mrs. Archer and 

Slick, (jumping tip) Thunderation and the big-horn spoon! 

Perkins. Why, what's the matter? Have you gone crazy? 

Slick. Archer — Archer! Why drat my buttons that's' the old 
chaps name that lives in the haunted house. 

Perkins. You don't say? 

Slick. Yes I do say, and mean it too. See here, landlord, I want 
ter see Mrs. Archer; I kin tell her somethin' that'll do her lot's o' 
good or I'm a sinner. 

Perkins. All right, Mr. Slick; I'll go and bring'them right in if 
they'll come. '(exit, c. 

Slick. Now if this turns out as I'm purty sartin it will, it'll 
make a first-rate romance. That devil Brandon has broke up the 
Archer family I'll bet, and now he wants to make way with the old 
man. Thar's some deep plot here, but that cuss '11 find there's a 
purty big bug under the chip afore he's done. I'll git Paddy and 
we'll go fur him like sin. We'll make him wish he'd never struck 
this part of the country. I guess the wimmen air a comin.' 

Enter Perkins, Mrs. Archer, and Emily, l. 

Perkins. Mr. Slick, here are the ladies, Mrs. Archer and Miss 
Joyce. 

Slick. How dye do, how dye do. I am glad to see you, an' I be 
lieve ye'll be glad to see me when we come to an understanding. 

Emily. We are glad to meet you, Mr. Slick. 

Slick. Ye see, ladies, in my perambulations up an' down in this 
world I find out a good many queer things, an' among 'em I've 
found that a miserable skunk by the name of Job Brandon is a per- 
secutin' you 

Mrs A. What do you know of my relations with Job Brandon? 

Slick. I don't know nothin' pertickler about your relations with 
him, but I do know he's a sneakin' villain an' needs watchin.' 

Mrs A. Mr. Slick, when did you nie^t this man? 
' Slick. I met him right here in this 'ere house. 

Mrs A. Here in this house? Merciful heaven, I am lost! 

Slick. Now, Mrs. Archer, don't go to takin' on, Job Brandon 
won't never harm ye here. That's what I wanted to see ye about, so 
ye wouldn't git skeered if ye should happen to see him kinder unex- 
pected like. Ye jist keep a stiff upper lip, an' if ye happen to git a 
hance to talk to him be as sassy as ye want to. 



22 AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 

Mrs A. Oh, heavens! my worst fears are realized. I shall be in 
an agony of fear until I can escape him again. Oh, Emily, we must 
fly. Every moment we remain here increases my danger. He may 
discover me at any moment, and then I should be lost. 

Slick. Mrs. Archer, he knows ye are here now, an' the safest 
way is fer ye to stay right here, where ye know ye have friends. I 
tell ye again' that Job Brandon shan't never harm ye while Heze- 
kiah Slick kin lift a finger to help ye. So ye jest keep cool and listen 
an' you'll hear somthin' drop one 6' these days. Come, landlord, 
let's go an' fix our trap fer this cussed old fox. He's purty cute, but 
we'll fix him yet. {exit Slick and Perkins, l, 

Mrs A. Oh! Emily, Emily! What shall we do? In our fancied 
security we have been too careless. He has followed our track like 
a sleuth-hound, and is now only waiting to make me again his pris- 
oner. But that he shall never do ; I am prepared to take my own 
life, and rather than fall into his hands again I will do it. Yes, 
sooner than be in his power I will blot out forever my miserable ex- 
istence; rather than endure his tyranny and torture I will brave the 
wrath of outraged heaven, and escape him by destroying myself. 
The very gulf of hell, yawning at my feet, could not shake me with 
its terrors, as does his presence. Oh, I am indeed accursed. 

Emily. Do not give "way to despair. We are gaining friends. 
We could give htm battle on his own ground and gain the victory. 
I have more hope now than ever before. One more struggle and 
his power will be gone — you will then be free. 

3Irs A. If I could feel your hope I would gladly meet and give 
him battle. 

Emily. Do not give way ; be brave, be resolute, all will yet be 
well. I will go and speak with Mrs. Perkins a few minutes. Mean- 
time summon up your courage and resolution — our friends will pro- 
tect us. 

Mrs A. Dear Emily, your courage inspires me with new hope. 
I w;ll summon up my resolution and battle for liberty. 

Emily. The clouds are lifting, be of good cheer, (exit Emily, L. 

Mrs A. This new strength and courage is a revelation to me; I 
feel almost equal to facing this villain and taunting him with his 
crimes. It may be the strength of desperation, but whatever the 
cause, it makes me seem like my old self. I could meet him now 
and deal him blow for blow. 

Enter Brandon, L., unobserved. 

-—He will not find me broken and dispirited, but with sufficient cour- 
age and determination to destroy forever his power over me. (sees 
Brandon) Ah ! Job Brandon, to what am I indebted for this visit? 

Brandon. To the great regard I have for you, Mrs. Archer. Al- 
low me to congratulate you ; you are looking remarkably well. 

Mrs A. Yes, the change from your fostering care to these moun- 
tains has made a wondrous change in me. 

Brandon. So I perceive. I suppose you will be ready to return 
with me to your old quarters at any time now ? 

Mrs A. Return with you? Kever. 

Brandon. You should be well aware that I have a way of accom- 
plishing whatever I undertake — a way of bending people to my will 
—or breaking them, if they prove refractory. 



AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, TIIE MANIAC WIFE. 23 

Mrs A. You need not call up recollections of your villainies, they 
will not soon be forgotten. 

Brandon. Villainies, Mrs. Archer? How can you say that after 
all I have for you ? 

Mrs A. How could I say. anything else after all you have done 
for me ? If I was asked to point out the incarnation of evil I would 
point to you and say, behold it there. 

Brandon, (laughs) Ha, ha, ha! I must say the opinion of me 
you express so freely and forcibly is not particularly flattering. 

Mrs A. Flattering? The arch enemy of mankind must retire 
abashed, and hide his diminished head when you are near. 

Brandon. 'Tis a pity to break in on so pleasant a conversation — 
but business before pleasure. I shall expect you to be ready to ac- 
company me in half an hour. 

Mrs A. Accompany you? Job Brandon your power over me is 
no more. There was a time when your step would send me crouch- 
and shivering into some dark corner; when your presence stupefied 
me with terror; when a glance from your eyes would turn me faint 
with tear. That time is no more, and never will be again. A 
worm when trodden upon will sting the heel that crushes it. You at- 
tempted to crush me and almost succeeded ; you will now learn that 
I can s ing. 1 have told my story and it is believed; a word from 
me and your life would not be safe a moment; one shout from me 
and strong and willing arms would instantly gather about me and 
ofl'er protection. Your crimes are bearing the fruit you have sown 
in iniquity. Now, sir, show your boasted power if you dare. 

Brandon. Woman, you know not with whom you are dealing. I 
am not so easily balked as you suppose. You are yet in ray power . 
nor wraths of gods, nor hate of devils, shall aid you to escape me. 
You shall go with me. 

He starts toward her, she steps back and presents pistol at Brandon, 
who stops and glares at her. 

Enter from r. and l., Perkins, Mrs. Perkins, Emily, Slick and Booney. 

Tableau. 

Mrs A. Back, wretch ! I had thought with this weapon to end 
my own life, but I have changed my mind. One step at your peril. 
(sees her Jriends and lowers pistol) There are my friends Job Bran- 
don. Do you think me weak and helpless ? I defy you now ! 

(Change to 

SCEXE SECOND.— A village street in 1st grooves. 

Enter Job Brandon, R. 

Brandon. She has foiled me, curses on her. Why did I wait, to 
parley with her? Dolt, idiot, that I am,«I might have known better. 
I should have seized and gagged her at once, thus making her escape 
impossible. Her fears are now aroused, and I must be doubly cau- 
tious. That fool of a peddler and his Irish companion seem to have 
deserted me, and at a critical time, too. No matter, I believe my 
cunning is more than a match for the block-heads she has secured 
for her defense. I must and will have her in my power at any cost. 
And then — well, no matter, she will trouble me no more. Now how 
am I to dispose of Randolph Archer ? My hand must have forgot 



24 AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 

its cunning or I would then have completed half my revenge. And 
again I have put him on his guard. And that fellow Wallace, I 
think he is called, seemed to be on friendly terms with the family. 
He was very willing to assist in their defense. New complications 
seem to arise on every hand, but I will triumph yet, I will wait 
quietly a few days or weeks as mny seem necessary, and when the 
time is ripe for action sweep them from my path forever. 

(exit Brandon, l. 
Enter Slick and Booney, r< 

% Booney. An' did yez hear the bloody thafe a talkin' wid himself, 
me jewil ? 

SUck. Ye?. Paddy, and we didn't hear much good o' ourselves 
either, did we ? 

Booney. It's moighty little oi care for what the loiks of him sez. 
But what the divilair we goin' to do nixt? 

Slick. I'll tell ye, Paddy ; you go down to the oil stun house an' 
see if you kin find that chap Wallace, an' if ye kin find him tell him 
all ye know about the hull concern, an' git him to come up here if 
ye kin; an' I'll stay around here an' look arter this cuss Brandon. 
D'ye understand ? 

Booney. Yer right by'e, an' oi'l be off as lively as a bank cashier 
wid the money box. So long, me jewil. {exit Slick, r., Booney, l. 

SCENE THIBD. — A garden at the old stone house. Garden seat, r. c. 

Enter Bodna and Archer, r. Archer in dressing gown and slippers, 
looking pale and weak, leaning on Bodna" 1 s arm. 

Bodna. There father, rest yourself in the shade, this delicious 
breeze will do you good. 

Archer. Thanks child, you are indeed a most excellent nurse. 

Bodna. What can have detained Frank — Mr. Wallace I mean. 
He promisd to return in two weeks, and now it is nearly four since 
he left us. 

Archer. My old fate, Rodna. Hope has ever been to me a fickle 
goddess; she has ever lured me on and as often proved false — like a 
traveller in the desert who sees just before him a beautiful lake of 
rippling limpid water, dancing in the sunlight — he, parched with 
thirst, perishing, used his last atom of strength to reach it, the delus- 
ion of mirage. Heaven help us both. 

Bodna. Father, dear, dear father, do not despair — do not lose 
hope. I am confident our new found- friend will be true to us. This 
delay is caused by some unexpected circumstance. I know he will 
come, and with him the long expected and hoped for joy. 

Archer. Dear Rodna, youth and hope are ever companions, but 
the disappointment of years at last casts a shadow and hope shines 
but dimly. 

Boana. You are not old, father. 

Archer. Not in years, child ; but an eternity of suffering and sor- 
row has passed over me. Many times I have lifted the cup of hap- 
piness to my lips only to have it dashed to the ground and broken. 
Like Tantalus always athirst, but not a drop of nectar to cool my 
burning lips. I have fought against fate and been vanquished. I 
have struggled with despair and hoped on. Now, I can hope no 
more. 



AFTER TEN YEARS: OR, THE MANIAC WIPE. 25 

fiodna* Share jour wrongs and sufferings with me, father, I am 
young and strong and will help you bear your sorrow. Confide hv 
me — tell me the story of your life. 

Archer. Qh, Rod na, child, you know not what you ask. And 
yet you must know some time—why delay ? Child, your father has 
the brand of Cain upon his forehead — he is accused of murder. 

Bodna. Murder! Oh! father, father, it is not true? Tell me it 
is not true ? 

Archer. No, no, it is false— false. If I did tnke her life it was a 
mistake ; I did not intend it I do not believe — Oh ! I know I did not 
kill her, but I have no means of proving my innocence. 

Bodna. Tell me all. Let me know the worst. 

Archer. Rodna, listen to me — listen to a story never before told 
to mortal ears; listen to a tale of horror, the thought of which 
almost unmans me. Years ago I possessed an ample fortune, was 
courted and petted by society; surrounded by friends, envied by 
some; the future opened before me joyously. I wooed and won a 
beautiful girl. We were married, and perfect happiness was mine. 
After a time one of the envious ones set about my ruin. Years 
came and went, but his hatred did not abate. He and an accomplice 
at "last made me jealous of my wife — craftily fed my passion. I 
watched her. One day I found her in his arms. I rushed into the 
room, felled him to the floor, and — struck her savagely, brutally, as 
she knelt at my feet begging, pleading to be heard. I. fled, I knew 
not where. When my reason returned I was in a miner's cabin, 
surrounded by rough but kind-hearted men. They told me that six 
months before I had come to them foot-sore and weary, and almost 
naked. They pitied me, took me in and gave me food, clothing, 
and shelter, and for six months I had labored with them in the 
mine. Then I thought of my home, of you, but eight years old, 
and the old madness almost came upon me again. I resolved to go 
back to the city ; I did so, and found myself branded a murderer. I 
was accused of killing my wife, your mother. After considerable 
search I found where you were. I had completed arrangements for 
flight, and for taking you with me, when I met Job Brandon. He 
recognized me at once. Told me warrants were out for my arrest. 
Offered to atone for his share in my crime, by furnishing me means 
for flight and concealment. I accepted his offer, and that night 
seized you and fled. After weeks of wandering I found this place 
and made it my home. You know our history. 

Bodna. Oh, father, you have suffered — do suffer. I do not be- 
lieve the blow you gave took my mother's life. If she was murdered 
Job Brandon did it, I am sure. 

Archer. No, I do not believe I killed her outright, and I have 
thought it possible she is yet living; but if she is living that is only 
slight mitigation of my crime. I was insanely jealous, and in my 
passion and desperation, did a deed that cannot be pardoned. If she 
be living what has she suffered? If she be dead, what am I? Can 
you wonder I have lost hope ? 

Bodna. It is indeed terrible, but I have faith in your innocence; 
and I believe this mystery will soon be solved and you will stand be- 
fore the world vindicated. 

Archer. Vindicated? No, no. If it could be proved that I did 
not take her life I might be vindicated in law, but at the tribunal of 
my own conscience, vindication is impossible. No penance I could 



26 AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 

do, no misery I could endure, would wipe out the stain of my guilt. 
*Oh, Rodna, Rodna, that villain's ^confession proves her innocence 
and deepens my crime. 

Rodna. !S T ow, father, that I know your sorrow I will do what I 
can to help you bear it. Confide in me — trust me. 

Archer. 1 do and will, my child. I need your sympathy, youi 
support. You are my only anchor to the world — my only hope. 

Rodna. Dear father, if I cannot give you a son's strength I will 
give you a daughter's love. 

Archer. Heaven bless you, my daughter, for your steadfast cour- 
age and sweet love, I can see the beginning of our trials, but God 
alone can see the end. Rodna, we must leave our old home, leave it 
forever. There is no safety here for me. That fiend may. come at 
any moment, armed with a warrant for my arrest, and that would 
consign me to a felon's cell, and perhaps a scaffold. I have waited 
as long for Wallace as I dare, every moment spent here now in- 
creases my peril. I must fly, fly. I will endeavor to escape him 
once more, and if I fail may God pity you, my child. 

Rodna. Father, father, there comes Mr. Wallace. I was sure he 
would return. Cheer up, your last days will be your best ones. 

Enter Wallace, l. 

Wallace, (going to meet Archer) I am glad to see you again, Mr. 
Archer, and you too Miss Rodna. [shakes hands with both 

Rodna. We were beginning to despair of your return, had almost 
concluded you had deserted us. 

Wallace. I met with some perplexing difficulties which detained 
me, but here I am at last. 

Archer. What have you found ? What have you done for me ? 
^ell all — all — do not fear, I can bear sorrow — disappointment — any- 
thing better than this suspense. 

Wallace, (aside) Joy will not kill, (aloud) Mr. Archer, you 
are vindicated, your innocence is proved. 

Rodna. Oh, joy, joy ! 

Archer. No— no — it cannot be — it cannot be — do not torture me; 
tell me the truth — you do not mean it? i 

Wallace. I say again you are vindicated. I have the proof. Your 
wife lives. 

Archer, (comes to c. hands and eyes uplifted) She lives, she lives I 
(kneels ) Oh, God I thank thee. Let me die— let me die. (falls in 
swoon. Rodna and Wallace, assist him to a seat, he quickly regains 
consciousness) Is this a dream? Am I cursed with another delusion?. 
Or am I dead and is this heaven ? 

Rodna. No father, you are not dead, nor is this a delusion. It is the 
blessed truth — you are free, free. So calm yourself and let us listen 
to our deliverer's story. 

Archer. Yes, yes, tell us about it — tell us all. 

Wallace. You know, Mr. Archer, I had positive proof of the 
financial fraud perpetrated upon you. And when I returned to the 
city after hearing your sad story— or & part of it— I determined to get 
at the truth or falsity of Brandon's story regarding the death of 
your wife. I patiently searched the record of burial permits, but 
could find no evidence of her death and burial. I then commenced 
a careful examination of court records for a series of years ; and 
found that some ten years ago Job Brandon was appointed guardian 



AFTER TEN YEARS*, OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 27 

Of Mrs. Edna Archer; who was then adjudged insane and commit- 
ted to the State asylum. The records of that institution showed she 
had been discharged from there one year after admission. Then for 
a time I lost trace of her, hut at Last discovered she had been im- 
prisoned in a private mad-house since her discharge from the State 
institution, until a short time ago she managed to make her escape, 
and has not been heard of since. Such in brief is the history of my 
doings since I left you. 1 have placed detectives on Mrs. Archer's 
track and will leave nothing undone to discover her whereabouts. 
' Bodna. Oh! she must be found. I must clasp her in my arms — 
kiss her dear lips — and beg her to forgive -my dear, kind, loving 
father. 

Archer. That, Roclna, she can never do. But if I could see her, 
and ask her forgiveness, I could then die content* 

Wallace* I also found another chapter in Brandon's villainies. I 
found his lawful wife confined in the same mad-house from which 
Mrs. Archer made her escape. I took measures to obtain her relief 
and at the proper time will bring them face to face. 

Bodna. Where is she, I would so much like to see her? 

Wallace. She is at the village in care of my friend Dobbs. Ah! 
here comes a visitor, and I think ic is the Irishman who came here 
with Brandon a few weeks ago. Yes, I am sure 'tis he. 

Enter Booney, l. 

Roomy, (bowing and doffing his cap) The top o' the mornm* to 
yez all. It's a line day I'll be thinkin'. 

Archer. Yes, the weather is very nice to-day. What can I do for 
you ? 

Booney. Oh, nuthin' at all, at all, only I kim down to tell yez it 
wor a big mistake meself an' Mishter Slick made whin we kim down 
here wid that dirty blackguard Brandon. 

Archer. Yes, I think it was. 

Booney. An' I want to tell yez that the spalpane is a pianniiv 
more mischief fur yez here. 

Archer, We have expected that, and we are now ready to defy 
him. 

Booney. Good fer yez. Oi'l go back to the village an' tell me 
partner to drive ahead, fur everything is ready on this end of the 
line. 

Archer. I don't get your meaning clearly, Mr. Mr— — 

Booney. Rooney — Patrick Rooney, at yer service. (boics 

Archer. Well, Mr. Rooney, you seem to have taken a great in- 
terest in our aftairs lately. May I ask the reason? 

Booney. Sartinly, sartinly, Mishter Archer, an' oi'l tell ye the 
blissed truth so I will. Ye see, man, me partner Mishter Slick, who 
is a first-class travelin' dry goods emporium, went into a partnership 
wid Mishter Brandon to find out any little quare things that might 
happen about this place, an' the night we kim down here we found 
we'd sold out mighty chape to one o' the divil's own imps, an' so 
we broke up the contract an' kim over ter yer side. 

Archer. See here, my man, when yon go back to the village you 
may tell Mr. Brandon we are expecting a call from him. Tell him 
to come as soon as he likes, we are ready to revive him. 



28 AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 

Roomy. All right, oi'l tell him sure if oi kin clap me two eyei 
onto him. So good luck an' good day to yez all. 

(exit Rooney, l., bowing 

Wallace. If this fellow is one of Brandon's creatures he will not 
take a very nattering report to his master. Well, I must go to the 
village and make some arrangements for removing you from this 
place. You must be placed in possession of your own again. 

Rodna. You will not be gone long I hope ? 

Wallace. Only long enough to transact the necessary business. 

Archer. Return as quickly as you can, my dear boy, we feel the 
need of your good counsel. 

Wallace. I will hasten. {exit, l. 

Archer. A noble youth, Rodna, a noble youth. 

Rodna. Let us go into the house, father. 

{exit, Rodna and Archer, l, 

SCENE FOURTH. — Apartment in 2nd grooves. Jonathan Dobbs 
and Hezekiah Slick enter r. 

Slick. I've hern, Mr. Dobbs, thet you've bin a travelin' around 
purty considerable lately? 

Dobbs. Wall, ya'as, I hev' been gittin' 'round right smart lately, 
Mr. Slick. 

Slick. Seen a purty chunk o' kentry, I reckon, Mr. Dobbs? 

Dobbs. Ya'as, a right good chunk, that's so. 

Slick. Did ye travel very fer, Mr. Dobbs? 

Dobbs. Ya'as, a right smart piece. 

Slick. Did ye travel east or west, Mr. Dobbs? 

Dobbs. Wa'al I disremember exzactly, but I'm kinder of the opin- 
ion I went rpiite a strip both ways. 

Slick. I reckon ye must a made a purty good pile o' chink? 

Dobbs. I might have made more, an' then agin I might hev' 
made a darned sight less. 

Slick. Jes' so, jes' so, that's about what I calkerlated on. Was 
ye doin' bizness fer yerself, Mr. Dobbs ? 

Dobbs. See here, Slick, ef anybody axes ye about that tell 'em ye 
don't know a blamed thing about it, will ye? 

Slick. Sartinly, sartinly, Mr. Dobbs. 1 hope thars no offense? 

Dobbs. Not aivy, Mr. Slick, only I don't like yer cussed wooden 
nutmeg inquisitiveness, that's all. 

Slick: Oh, sartinly, sartinly, Mr. Dobbs. I kinder thought as 
how we might git up a sort o' mutual benefit society or suthin' ; 
cause ye see I kinder thought as how I might know suthin' that ye 
don't know, but would kinder like to know. That's all, Mr. Dobbs; 
that's all. 

r Dobbs. I'd like ter know what you know about the" business I've 
been away on g 

Slicks Yas, I thought as how he might like to know. 

Dobbs. Now see here, Slick, ef you know anything about this 'ere 
bizness I want you to tell me What it is. 

Slick. Law! you don't say. 

Dobbs. Ya'as, I do say an' mean it too. 

Slick. Why, really I believe yer gettin' out o* sorts, Mr. Dobbs? 

Dobbs. Ya'as I air a gittin' out o' sorts, an' I want ye to know I 
am all wool an' a yard wide. 

Slick. Pshaw! ye don't say? I've heard my old father say timo 



AFTER TEN YEARS; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE!. 29 

an' agin, that ye could lead a hoss to water but ye couldn't make 
him drink if he didn't want to; an' the old man knew purty con- 
siderable, I calkerlate. # I 

Dobbs. I see ye won't tell what ye know, an' I've a good mind to 
thump ye iest for luck. 

Slick. I wouldn't do it, Mr. Dobbs, I wouldn't really. I'm dread- 
fully afraid it would give ye a pain in yer stomach or somewhere. 
Though ef your agoin' to do it, now is the accepted time ye know. 

Dobbs. Would ye fight an' no mistake? 

Slick. I'm kinder of the opinion I would. Ef ye have any doubts 
about it ye'd better try it on, so as ye'll be perfectly satisfied. 

Dobbs. I won't touch ye now, Slick; but I want to tell ye one 
tlqng, any man what is ketched with that sneakin' cuss, Brandon - 
or to be pounded within an inch of his life. 

Slick. See here, Mr. Dobbs, ef that's what you've got agin me 1 
wouldn't mind bein' kicked a few times, more or less; for that war 
the meanest thing I ever got into. 

Dobbs. Why ye don't mean to say ye've quit him, do ye? 

Slick. Yes [ do. Arter that raid on the old house that night we 
dissolved mightly suddint, an' I'm doin' what I kin to head the var- 
mint off. 

Dobbs. Give us yer hand. I don't care ef ye do sell bass-wood 
hams and wooden nutmegs, thar's a heap o' man in ye anyhow. 

Slick. Ye see thar's a couple o' wimmen here that that cuss has 
Deen a persecutin' for a good spell, an' they're skeered almost to 
death ; an' I told 'em I'd see 'em through safe and sound, an' by 
hokey I'm agoin' to it. 

Dobbs. That's right, that's right. An' ef ye need any help wink 
at me an I'll be thar in a hurry. 

Slick. Wa'al, now as we've come to an understandin' let's go an' 
liquidate. 

Dobbs. No, I can't do it; I can't leave the house for awhile, I ex- 
pect my boss here any minute. 

Slick. Oh! oi see j^e've got a scheme of yer own. 

Enter Mrs. Brandon, l., wildly. 

—Hello! what's this? 

Mrs Bran. I have seen him — he passed the house but a moment ago . 
He is the same smooth smiling villain. How I hate him. (to Dobbs, 
who attempts to restrain her) Unhand me ! Let me go ! Have I but 
changed keepers ? Am I to be forever denied my revenge ? No, no, 
away, away; I will not be restrained. 

Enter Wallace, r., hurriedly advances to her. 

— You are my saviour, (kneels) Save me. Oh ! do not let them 
put those cruel irons on me again. ( starts up) See, see; where they 
cut into* my flesh, (holds' out her hands) You will not— oh ! you 
Will not let them take me. (pointing to Dobbs and Slick) There 
they are — keep them back. 

Wallace. Calm yourself, Mrs. Brandon, you are among friends 
who will protect you. These men are your friends. 

Mrs Bran. Oh! I saw him — saw him pass the house; and the 
sight of him blasted my brain, I again felt his cruel hands upon me, 
heard again my horrid doom, hissed in my ears, again saw the barred 
windows of my prison. 



30 AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 

Wallace. I entreat you to be calm. You will do yourself and 
your cause great injury. I promise again you shall meet him face 
to face, and without fear of violence. Therefore, I beg of you to 
quiet this agitation. 

Mrs Bran. You ask me to be quiet and to be calm, when that 
man is near? Do yon think I am composed of watery elements that 
I can be an iceberg in the presence of my foe? No, no, the fires of 
hell pour through my veins instead of blood ; my soul is torn with 
whirlwinds of hate; my hate is a resistless torrent beyond human 
control. Hear me — hear me all. While that man lives I will think 
of nothing but revenge; i will know no pity — no remorse; I will 
summon to my aid the infernal powers; I will know no rest, no 
peace, until my vengeance is accomplished. 

Wallace. Mrs. Brandon you will defeat your own purposes if you 
do not control yourself. 

Mrs Bran. I am calmer now. My reason is again master, so pray 
do tell me what you have accomplished. 

Wallace. Everything I desired. The net is slowly but surely 
drawing about him. He cannot escape. 

Enter Mrs, Archer and Emily , L., unobserved. 

— I have prepared my friends for removal, and as soon as a few pre- 
liminaries can be settled we will be ready to face the villain with 
his crimes. The plot was a deep one, but all the ends of the tangled 
skein are gathered up — but one, and this one I hope will soon be in 
my possession. As soon as I can restore Randolph Archer's wife to 
him my work will be accomplished. 

Mrs A. (comes forward) Randolph Archer? Heaven be praised ! 
I shall see him once more. 

Enter liooney, r. 

Slick. I vum this beats anything. 

Mrs Bran, (to Mrs. Archer) And who are you? 

Mrs A. I am Randolph Archer's wife. 

Wallace. Another victim of Job Brandon's villainies. 

Booney. (aside) There musht be shmoke in my the room. 

(wipes his eyes 
Slick. Ya'as, I think there is. (wipes his eyes 

Mrs Bran. The end is approaching. " Vengeance is mine, and I 
will repay," saith the Lord. 
All. Amen. 

CURTAIN. 



ACT III. 



SCENE FIB ST.— The parlor of the Inn, door C. f., fire screen U 
C, back; sofa chairs, table, R. of c. Mrs. Archer and Wallace discov 
ered r. and l., seated. 

3Irs A. You have heard my sad story, Mr. Wallace. You can 
judge of the suffering I have endured ; the only wonder is my rea- 



AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE, 31 

son was not dethroned years ago, and I become a maniac like that 
poor creature in yonder room. 

Wallace. Her hot Italian nature could not endure the strain. J 
had hoped the change of scene might calm her frenzy, but fear it 
will not. In her present condition I dare not let her meet Brandon; 
if she should meet him now the end would he a tragedy. 

Mi* A. I had almost said 'twould be a fitting termination to his 
career of crime. I will not think that it could be so horrible. Are 
you sure my husband will come? Oh! how I long to see his dear 
face, hear his loved voice, and feel the clasp of his protecting arms. 
And yet there, is a dread. I must see him unobserved, or in. the first 
transports of this meeting I would die of joy. 

Wallace. Your husband will be here presently, so calm yourself 
as much as possible. 

Mrs A. I will, I will. .And my daughter — our daughter, tell me 
what is she like? Is she beautiful — is she good? 

Wallace. She is both beautiful and good, Mrs. Archer. I never 
saw her equal. 

Mrs A. You are quite enthusiastic, Mr. "Wallace. 

Wallace. Mrs. Archer, I love your daughter and she returns my 
love. I had not thought to say this to you now, but my great love 
for her impels me to speak. May I hope when your troubles are all 
past you will give your consent to our marriage. I will furnish you 
satisfactory proof of my standing and parentage, and 

Mrs A. Hush, hush! If she loves you it would please me more 
than I can tell to see her your wife. Do not speak of birth or posi- 
tion, you are my daughter's equal, for you have all the essentials of 
true manhood. 

Wallace. Dear Mrs. Archer, you have made me very happy. Ah, 
they have come, 1 hear carriage wheels. Be calm, be calm, all will 
be well. 

Mrs A. I cannot — cannot control my feelings. Let me conceal 
myself behind yonder screen, and for a few moments see him unob- 
served. Oh ! I am almost overcome. 

Wallace assists her behind screen and places chair for her, returns to C- 
Enter from r., Bodna, Archer and Booney. 

Booney. Be the powers thin 'twas a moighty rough ride for yezf 
but here we are right side up. 

Bodna. Yes, thanks to your good management, we came through 
all right. Oh ! Mr. Wallace, I never knew what happiness meant 
until to-day. Where is my mother? Oh ! how I long to see her, to 
clasp her in my arms, kiss her dear face and look into her eyes, and 
see the love-light shining there. 

Booney. Wid yer lave oi'll be excused and look after the luggage. 

Wallace. We will excuse you, Rooney. If you see Slick any- 
where tell him to come here, will you? (exit Booney, r. 

Archer. Where is my dear Edna? I cannot control my feelings 
at the prospect of this meeting. How will she receive me? What 
will she say after all these years of cruel neglect— after the brutal 
blow I struck her? I can see her up-turned tear-stained, pleading 
face, as I saw it then. I can hear the sob of anguish as I raised 
my hand to deal that fiendish blow. I can see her quivering, in- 
sensible form stretched before me. Oh! it is too horrible —I cannot 
bear the thought. 



32 AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR. THE MANIAC WIFE. 

Wallace. Calm yourself, Mr. Archer; I can assure you you have 
long since been forgiven. 

Bodna. Yes, father, do not allow these gloomy thoughts to dis- 
turb the joy and peace of this happy day. Do not live again the long 
sad years; let the dead past bury its dead, look to the dawning of 
the new life and rejoice. My life is so glad to-day. Oh ! father, 
there is a well-spring of perennial joy flowing into ray soul. Think 
of it, father, we are free ; free, all free — no more slavery, no more 
prisons, no more loneliness— all that is past. Come up out of your 
gloom — banish the night, and hail the new dawn, which will forevei 
dissipate .your sorrow. 

Archer. Rodna, your words thrill me again and again. Oh! if I 
dare to think that she, my Edna, could in "part forgive me the cruel 
wrong I did her; only in part — my joy would be as boundless as the 
universe. How gladly would I toil for her; yes, die for her, if by so 
doing I could bring her happiness. But, Rodna, when I think of 
thesuffering she has endured, of the horrors which surrounded her; 
when I think of her bright life darkened by my unjust, unreasoning 
suspicions; when I think of the cowardly cruel blow I struck her. 
I feel my sin is beyond pardon — I must see her, I must beg her for- 
giveness; I must know my fate. Rodna, Wallace, where is she? 
Where is she? • 

Mrs A. {coming forward) Here, Randolph, my husband. 

Archer, {kneels) Oh! Edna, wife, my love, can you forgive me? 

Mrs A. {raising him) Fully, freely, Randolph. We were both 
wrong, but we could not know how that cunning villain plotted for 
our ruin. Thank heaven his power is gone forever. 

Archer. Yes, thanks to our young friend here, to whom we owe 
all. And now, Edna, we will begin anew life. In the shadow of 
the old we will build better and stronger. But I forget, I am selfish 
in my new joy. Rodna, our daughter, waits to greet you. 

Mrs A. Come to me, Rodna; iet me hold you in my arms once 
more. A husband and a daughter. Oh ! if joy would kill I should 
surely die. Let me look at you. {holds her off) Yes, the promise 
of your childhood is fulfilled. I am satisfied. 

Bodna. Mother, dear, dear mother, how I have longed for this 
moment. The new life is begun. 

* Enter Slick, r., rubbing his hands and grinning. 

Slick. How d'ye do. How d'ye do. This beats anything I ever 
seed all holler. By jingo, it kinder makes my eyes water. 
{wipes eyes) Why, ye all look as happy as a bobolink in a medder. 
I hain't seen sich a good time sence I had the mumps. {wipes eyes 

Wallace. Mr. Slick did you see Brandon? 

SUcfi. See here now, don't mister me ; call me Hez., I ain't proud. 
And then again I feel like one of the family a'most. 

Wallace. All right. Ha, ha, ha!' Well, Hez., did you find Bran- 
don and succeed in inducing him to come here? 

Slick. Ya'as, he's a comin' soon, an' we'll hev' to watch the cuss 
or he'll be a doin' some mischief. 

Wallace. We will watch him, and if he attempts any violence 
arrest him at once. 

Archer. What will he do, Mr. Slick; excuse me, I meant Hez. 
Ha, ha! 

Slick. Wa'al, I can't jest make out what he means to do. But 



AFTER TEN YEARS*, OR, THE MANIAC WISE. 33 

he's cussed mad, an' a swearin' vengeance agin somcbocty, an' the 
safest way will be to keep our eyes peeled for him, 1 allow. 

Mrs A. Oh! do not run any risks. Send for some officer and ar- 
rest him at once. 

Slick, See here ma'am, Hezckiah Slick Is officer enough to arre3t 
that sneakin' varmint, an' he wants the job too, purty considerable 
bad I reckon. 

Rodna. Do not talve any more risks for us, if harm should befall 
you we should feel directly responsible. 

Slick. Now, miss, don't .ve fret about me, I allers try to pay my 
debts, an' I'm thinkin' I owe that feller a good bit, an' I'm bound to 
pay it. 

Enter Rooney, R., flourishing a shillalah, 

— Hello, Paddy, what's been stirring ye i:p? Ve look flustered. 

Rooney, Howly St. Patrick, ye ought to have sane the skirmage 
I had wid that dirty spalpane of a Brandon ! 

Archer. With Brandon ! Did you have a light with Brandon? 

Rodna, Tell us about it. 

Wallace. Yes, Rooney, let us hear about it. 

Slick. Come, Paddy, limber yer jaw and give us the particulars. 

Rooney. Ye see I kim acrost him in the strate a bit ago, an' oi 
sez to him, sez I; " The top of the mornin' till yez, Mr. Brandon." 
An' divil a word did he say at all. An' thin oi sez, sez oi; "It's a 
foine day, Mr. Brandon." An' wid that he whurrls 'round an' sez 
he to me, sez he, " Go to the devil you infernal Irishman." An' 
thin oi sez to him, sez 01, " Oi'll not be callin' at yer house whin yer 
away." An' wid that he made fur me, swearin' he'd teach me 
manners. An' whin he kim in reach of me I tipped him one wid 
me stick an' that samed to satisfy him intirely. 

Slick. I say, Paddy, ye never done a better thing than that, an' 
ye never will. 

Enter Perkins^ c. 

Perkins. Mr. Brandon says he would like to see Mr. and Mrs 
Archer. Will you see him? 

Archer. Yes, show him in. (exit Perkins, c, bowing 

Mrs A. Oh ! how I dread this meeting, I wish it could be avoided, 

Rodna. Courage, mother, it will soon be over. 

Wallace. Do not fear, there is no danger, we will not leave you. 

Archer, I trust this interview will be the last cloud to cast a sha- 
dow upon our lives. 

Wallace. I- think you two — (indicating Slick and Rooney) — had 
better conceal yourselves just outside the room, so you may be 
ready at a moment's notice if you are wanted. I hope there will be 
110 trouble but it is best to be prepared. 

Rooney. Oi'd like to git another chance at him. 

(exit Slick l., Rooney r., shaking club 

Archer, (to Mrs. Archer) Courage, love* 

Enter Brandon, c, coat dirty, waistcoat soiled; shows furious anger, 

Brandon. You sent for me, Randolph Archer. Do you wish to 
gloat over my defeat, to taunt me with your triumph? 

Archer. I sent for you, Job Brandon, to offer you what you have 
forfeited— life and liberty. 



34 AFTER TEft YEARS J OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 

Brandon. And you think you are now in a position to dictate 
terms to me? Poor fool! you know little of the intensity of my 
hatred if you suppose I would accept either life or liberty at your 
hands. 

Mrs A. Have you no contrition for what you have done — for the 
suffering you have caused ? 

Brandon. Contrition? No, I have no contrition, no regrets, only 
such as I feel at my failure to accomplish my revenge. 

Archer. Have you no fear of the future— no fear of outraged 
heaven ? 

Brandon. Fear of the future — fear of outraged heaven ? No— a 
thousand times no. Let woman and fools prate of God's anger— I 
fear it not. Let superstition and her hand-maid, ignorance, people 
the unknown with malignant devils and malignant Gods — what care 
I ! Think not to intimidate me with distorted fancies. No — 1 tell 
you if your heaven is a reality 1 Would stand at the great throne, in 
the presence of the Infinite, and ask for nothing but time to accom- 
plish your ruin. 

Archer, 1 beg of you stop and think. The proofs we hold Will 
consign you to a felon's Cell and perhaps a scaffold. I do not Wish 
to deprive you of life or liberty. Promise me you will seek a home 
in some distant country, and cease your persecutions of me and mine, 
and I will destroy the proofs of your guilt — you shall go free. 

Brandon. You ask me to make a promise? I will do it, Randolph 
Archer — I promise you and yours that while life remains my hate 
remains. I promise you to seek my revenge wherever you may be, 
if I can follow. I promise you nothing but death Or imprisonment 
mall stOp my pursuit of you. I promise you that come what may- 
liberty, a prison cell, or a scaffold, with my last breath I will hate 
and curse you. 

Mrs A, How can anything in human shape be so like a fiend? 

(shudders 

Brandon. You are the cause Of my hate — I loved you. You 
scorned me and chose him. * (points to Archer 

Enter Mrs. Bran Ion and Dobbs, l., he holding her arm. 

-^-Then my love turned to hate — boundless and unfathomable. 

Enter Slick x.., Booney n., cautiously. 

— Tthas increased with years until it is a consuming passion. 1 
failed in my aim once, I will try again, (draws pistol, Slick and 
RoonCy disarm him— -he stands scowling with hate) Foiled again I 
Curse my ill luck. 

3Irs Bran, (breaks from Dobbs and rushes wildly across stage and 
faces Brandon, who recoils; confronts him with arms upraised) I am 
here, Job Brandon ! Hear me ! 

Brandon, (recovering himtelf) Curse you, how came you here? 

Mrs Bran. Look at nie, Job Brandon ! Look at me! Look at 
your work ! I heard you but now speak of hate — do you hear — 
hate ! What is your hate compared with mine? 

Brandon, Leave me, leave me while you can. Why are you 
here? 

Mrs Bran. Why am I here? I am here for vengeance — ven- 
geance. • (Dobbs advances and' takes her by the arm — she shakes him off) 
Away, away, and give the whirlwind room. 



AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 35 

Brandon. Take her away. I do not wish to kill her now. 

Mrs Bran. Take me away? Nq, no, not until your seared and 
blackened soul shall wake to consciousness. Not until you know the 
fury of a woman scorned. Not until my vengeance is complete. 

Wallace* Mrs. Brandon, I entreat you to he calm. 

3Irs Bran. Talk not to me of calmness. You cannot stay the 
whirlwind's rush or stop the avalanche; nor can a word control the 
fury of storm-lashed ocean. There is no stop, no stay to my mad 
hate and fury. 

Brandon. What do you want, woman ? 

Mrs Bran. What do I want? I want your life. I want to see it 
•ebbing, ebbing drop by drop. I want to see the death-damp gather 
on your brow. I want to hiss into your dying ear the story of my 
wrongs and my revenge. 

Brandon. Go on with your senseless raving. I suppose your new 
friends enjoy it. 

Mrs Bran. Senseless raving? Job Brandon, you stand upon the 
brink of eternity. I have longed — prayed for this. The time of my 
triumph has come. 

Draws dagger and quickly sprinjs at Brandon and stabs him; he falls,, 
writhes, raises on elbow. 

Brandon. I hate, I hate (dies 

Mrs Bran. My wrongs avenged. My mission is accomplished. 

Come death, I ask no more. (stabs herself .falls and dies 

Archer. A life of hate and crime has ended in a tragedy. A just 

retribution. 



CURTAIN. 



RELATIVE POSITIONS, EXITS, &c. 

r., means Right; l., Left; r. h., Right Hand, l. h., Left Hand; c, Centre; s. R. 
or 2d e.,] Second Entrance; u. r., Upper Entrance; m.d., Middle Door; f., the Flat 
D. F., Door in Flat; r. c, Right of Centre; l. c, Left of Centre. 

r, r. c. c. l. rj. u 

%* The reader is supposed to be upon the Stage, facing the audience. 



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voices, words by W. H. Spangler, jr., music by F. 0. Wilson, Can be used as a solo, 
or as a solo and chorus. Price 30 cents. 

A HEALTH TO OUR HOSTESS— A male quartette, words by W. H. Spangler 
jr., words by F. 0. Wilson. It is sure to please all who purchase it. Price 30 cents. 



/" 



Ames' Plays— Continued. 



-o- 



NO. 

83 
53 

57 
29 
114 
18 
134 
165 
.156 

51 

110 

45 

96 

171 

59 

48 

107 

133 

138 

115 

55 

94 

25 

79 

92 

10 

137 

62 

64 

40 

38 

87 

131 

144 

101 



M. P. 

Out on the World 5 4 

Out ira the Streets 6 4 

Paddy Miles' Boy 5 2 

Painter of Ghent 5 2 

Passions 8 4 

Poacher's Doom 8 3 

Pomp's Pranks 2 

Persecuted Dutchman 6 3 

Quiet Family 4 4 

Rescued.... 5 3 

Reverses 12 6 

Rock Allen 5 3 

Rooms to Let .... 2 1 

Rough Diamond ....... 6 3 

Saved 2 3 

Schnaps . 1 1 

School 5 

Seeing Bosting 3 

Sewing Circle of Period.. 5 

S. H. A. M. Pinafore.. 5 3 

Somebody's Nobody 3 2 

16,000 Years Ago 3 

Sport with a Sportsman... 2 

Spy of Atlanta, 25c. v 14 3 

Stage Struck Darkey 2 1 

Stocks Up, Stocks Down.. 2 

Taking the Census 1 ] 

Ten Nights in Bar-Room 7 3 

That Boy Sam 3 1 

That Mysterious B'dle ... 2 2 

The Bewitched Closet 5 2 

The Biter Bit .. 5 2 

The Cigarette 4 2 

Thekla ... 6 7 

The Coming Man 3 1 



NO. M. F. 

67 The Fake Friend 6 1 

97 The Fatal Blow 7 1 

119 The Forty-Niners 10 4 

167 Turn Him Out 3 3 

93 The Gentleman in Black 9 4 



112 The New Magdalen 



8 3 



IIS The Popcorn Man 3 

71 The Reward of Crime 5 

16 The Serf 6 

68 The Sham Professor 4 

6 The Studio 3 

102 Turn of the Tide 7 

54 The Two T. J's 4 

7 The Vow of the Ornani .. 8 
28 Thirty-three nxtBrithd'y 4 

108 Those Awful Boys 5 

63 Three Glasses a Day 4 

105 Through Suow and Sun- 
shine 6 

Tit for Tat 2 

Twain's Dodgiug 3 

Wanted a Husband 2 



142 

4 

151 

5 

121 

56 

41 

70 



When Women Weep 3 

Will-o'-the-Wisp 9 

Wooing Under Difficulties 4 

Won at Last 7 

Which will he Marry 2 

135 Widower's Trials 5 

58 Wrecked 9 

147 Waking Him Up 1 

155 Why they Joined the Re- 

beccas 

156 Wig-Maker and His Ser- 

vants ... 3 

111 Yankee Duelist 2 

157 Yankee Peddler 7 



Wilkins 9 Amateur Dramas. 

Designed for the use of schools, amateur entertainments, etc. This 
volunid contains the following plays: Rock Allen the Orphan, or Lost 
and Found ; Three Glasses a Day, or the Broken Home; Mother's Fool ; 
The. Reward of Crime, or the Love of Gold; The Coming Man ; The 
Turn of the Tide, or Wrecked in Port; Hash. Neatly bound in cloth, 
price 75 cents. 

^0" j»Ieas<» lteiiieiuber that we can fill your orders for any 
play, dialogue book, speaker, guide book, piece of music, or anything 
in the line of amateur supplies such as wigs, beards, mustaches, face 
powders, paints, colored fires, lightning — in a word, anything you 
find yourself in need of. We shall be ready to answer your letters of 
inquiry at any time, and invite correspondence. In remitting please 
send a postal note, or a money order, where they can be qjpned, or 
small amounts may be sent in one or two cent postage star. 

Address A. D. AMES, Pub., ClyM 




E VERY _Ai| 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




WANTS A ; 016 103 689 4 

And Should Order it at Once!! 



HINTS TO AMATEURS 

BY A. D. AMES. 



A book of useful information for Amateurs and others, written 
expressly for those who are giving public entertainments — md who 
wish to make their efforl ul— containing much information 

never before given. Mr. Ames has had many years experience, and 
in this work gives many hints which cannot fail to be of great bene- 
fit to all. 



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A; 



ish to know How to act? 
isli to know How to make up? 
ish to know How to make fuses? 
ish to know How to be prompted? 
ish to know How to imitate clouds? 
ish to know How to imitate waves? 
isli to know How to make thunden? 
ish to know How to produce snow? 
ish to know How to articulate V 
ish to know How to. make lightning? 
ish to know How to produce a crash? 
ish to know How to make a wind-storm '? 
ish to know How to be successful on the stage? 
ish to know 'The effects of the drama on the mind'? 
ish to know How to assign parts successfully? 
ish to know The duties of the property man ? 
ish to know How to arrange music for plays? 
isli to know Many hints about the stage? 
ish to know How to form a dramatic club? . 
ish to know The duties of a manager? 
ish to know The duty of t ho prompter? 
ish to know How to conduct rehearsals? 
• know Th<' best method of studyii . 
ish to know How to make a stage laugh ? 
ish to know How to burn a colored lire? 
isli to know How to make a rain storm V 
ish to know A short history of the drama; 
ish to know All about scene painting? 
ish to know Maer.eady's method of actin 
vish to know the above, read Hints to A 
r 15 cents per copy by Addres'si 



I h 



A. D. 



Lock Box 102. 



AMES 



PuVr., 

vde, Ohio. 



